Out of the Darkness
by kwest10
Summary: Sean stood with the Circle when they confronted Black John; now he must come to terms with the Circle's accusations. Were their accusations true? If they are, how can he atone for what he has done?
1. Chapter 1

**The Secret Circle: **

**Out of the Darkness**

The Secret Circle and its characters aren't mine – they belong to L. J. Smith and HarperCollins Publishers. Portions of the dialogue on pages 1-4 are from The Secret Circle: Volume III, The Power, pages 281-283 and 289-293.

**Chapter One**

A brown shadow crept over the crescent moon. It covered the last sliver of shining white, but the moon didn't darken. It turned a dull red – the color of old blood. A shape, as insubstantial as fog or smoke, began to rise from the ground at the vacant lot at Number Thirteen Crowhaven Road.

Sean watched as the insubstantial shape solidified into a large rectangular house. Its appearance was almost perfect – flat clapboard walls, broad brick chimney, steep gable roof, heavy plank door, and small, asymmetrically placed lattice windows. It looked like any other 17th century house in New Salem – except for the eerie blood-red glow emanating from it, the same color as that of the eclipsed moon.

It felt wrong. It felt – evil.

The vague sense of dread he had been feeling grew stronger. He was terrified. He wanted to run, to get far away from that house, but he was frozen in place. He couldn't move – he couldn't even look away. The house mesmerized him, compelled him to look at it, to memorize its every detail, every weathered board, every chipped piece of slate.

"Don't go near it," Nick said. His voice sounded far away. "Everybody stay back until he comes out."

"Don't worry," Deborah replied. "Nobody's going near that."

And then Cassie said, "I have to go alone."

Sean stared at her. The members of the Circle were supposed to stick together. That's what Cassie had said before. If they didn't, if Cassie went alone, Black John would kill her, and then he would kill the rest of the Circle, just like he'd killed their parents – the ones who'd confronted him.

Deborah was arguing with Cassie. So was Nick. And Adam. And Chris.

Cassie wasn't listening to what they were saying.

She was watching them – the entire Circle, except Faye. Cassie's expression was wistful, as if she wanted more than anything to belong, to be accepted by the Circle, to be a part of it – and to stay together with them. With her Circle – her friends. More than friends – her family.

After a moment, Cassie straightened determinedly. The wistfulness was gone. Her blue-grey eyes were suddenly as hard and strong as steel. She stood, strong and proud and beautiful in the coven leader's white shift and the softly glowing silver and dark green of the Master Tools, looking around at the Circle.

Sean's terror abated when she briefly met his eyes. In that moment, he felt her confidence. Confidence that she could do what must be done. She could face Black John – and protect her Circle, her family, and her town. And the members of the Circle would do what must be done to support her, their leader.

"If you didn't want to listen to me you shouldn't have elected me leader," she chided them.

But they had elected her – and she was their leader. Cassie looked around, meeting everyone's gaze once again while she told them what they already knew: Black John wasn't coming out. He was waiting, inside, for Cassie – and she was going to fight him. Alone.

"You stay here until I come out," she said. "I'll be all right; I've got the Master Tools, remember?"

Her voice was decisive. She turned toward the house. Her walk was steady and confident as she approached the door.

Sean stared after her. The feeling of dread was back, and getting stronger once again. Cassie was a powerful Witch – and the Circle's leader – but that didn't mean she should go alone. She _couldn't_ – she had to stay with the Circle, to protect them and to be protected by them. They had to stand together.

He had to go after her, to stop her before she could open the door, to follow her inside, to protect her – to make the Circle stay with her, stay together. He _had_ to. But he stood, immobile, unable to do anything but watch as she opened the heavy door after only a moment's hesitation, and walked inside.

Adam started to follow her. Deborah and Nick were right behind him.

"No," Diana said, stepping in front of them. "Cassie's right. She's the only one Black John may listen to; she's the only one who can stop him in time."

The members of the Circle stood outside the house, and waited.

The wind started up again. Still they waited.

"We have to go after her," Adam said. He started again for the door.

"No," Diana said. "Not yet."

Deborah, Chris, and Doug, and some of the others, looked rebellious, but stood their ground.

The wind strengthened.

Finally Diana spoke. "It's time," she said quietly. She started walking toward the house. Adam was right behind her, followed by Deborah, Nick, Laurel, Melanie, Doug, Chris, and Suzan.

Slowly, as if moving through molasses, Sean lifted his right foot and placed it before him, and then his left. And then he was walking – following Suzan and Chris and Doug and the others through the door, through the kitchen and parlor, and up the steps of the steep, narrow, winding staircase. A tin lantern hanging on the wall gave off a dull light, but they didn't need it – the inside of the house was lit with a faint red glow. The wrongness felt even stronger inside the house than it had outside.

"Power of moon have I over thee," Cassie's voice was saying as they reached the room farthest from the stairs. "Power of sun have I over thee."

The red glow coming from the doorway was brighter than the glow in the rest of the house, the bad feeling stronger – a heavy miasma of horror and evil nearly as tangible as the house.

Diana went in. Adam followed her. So did Deborah, Nick, Laurel, Melanie, Doug, Chris, and Suzan. Sean walked with them.

Cassie stood inside the room, radiating power as she stared at the tall man standing before her. But he wasn't quite a man. His entire body glowed with the same eerie light that filled the house.

And it was from him that the miasma of evil emanated.

Faye stood beside the tall man. She was beautiful in her black silk shift and Diana's ceremonial tools. She was watching the tall man – Black John – and the Circle. She looked oddly uncertain.

"Power of stars have I over thee. Power of planets have I over thee." Diana walked through the room, stopping just behind Cassie.

Adam joined her. "Power of tides have I over thee. Power of rain have I over thee," he said.

Deborah, and Nick, and Laurel – nearly the entire Circle stood behind Cassie. Each in turn called on one of the powers of Nature to defeat Black John – who was now cowering before them.

"Power of thunder have I over thee," Doug announced.

"Power of lightning have I over thee," Chris shouted.

Sean was standing just behind Chris; it was his turn to invoke a power against Black John. But he could feel the evil of the man cowering before them – and he couldn't say a word.

Suzan spoke up. "Power of dew have I over thee," she said. She pushed Sean forward.

At last he could speak. "Power of blood have I over thee!" he yelled.

It wasn't enough. Black John straightened. He took a step toward them.

And Faye yelled, "power of fire have I over thee!" She walked over to Cassie and stood beside her, glaring at Black John. "Power of darkness have I over thee. Power of night have I over thee!"

Black John recoiled.

"With me! All of you think with me – give me your power! Now!" Cassie shouted.

Sean thought of blood – the life-giving fluid that bound the Circle and all of their families together – the blood of the last known descendents of the real Salem witches.

A presence entered his mind, filling his mind with power and with images of moon and sun and stars and all of the elements of Nature as it rushed through, taking his power with it.

The skull exploded and a piercing scream rent the silence – and stopped as suddenly as if it had been cut off.

The floor disappeared from under him, and he was falling. He screamed – and opened his eyes.

The blood-red house was gone. So was the vacant lot at Number Thirteen Crowhaven Road. Sean was home, in his own room, lying in his own bed. The curtain was open; the waning gibbous moon lit the room, illuminating the desk and chair, the guitar case leaning against the wall, the wardrobe and dresser on either side of the fireplace, the shelves of CDs and books, the cycling and triathlon posters pinned to the paneled walls and to the door.

Black John was nowhere to be seen.

It had been a dream. Just a dream.

Sean sat up, shivering in the cold morning air, and pulled the quilt tighter around himself.

Black John was gone. The Circle had defeated him. The crystal skull inside Black John's head had shattered, and Black John and the skull had vanished. But had they really killed him? He'd come back from the dead before, at least twice. Nobody knew if he had died before he drowned at sea in 1696. Nobody knew if he would come back again. Maybe he had hidden part of his soul in another crystal skull, or in something else.

Sean shuddered. He stood, dropping the quilt down onto the bed, and paced restlessly across the room.

_He _is_ gone, _Sean told himself fiercely_. _Nobody else had been killed this time. Nobody had been badly hurt, either, not even when the house disappeared from under them. Deborah had broken her arm – hers was the worst injury. Everyone else had escaped with nothing worse than bruises. His own bruises were already fading. There hadn't even been any serious injuries on the mainland; the hurricane had turned before striking land. Just property damage, on the mainland and in New Salem.

They had been lucky. Black John had underestimated the Circle – that was the only sensible explanation. He hadn't considered the Circle – a group of twelve sixteen- and seventeen-year-old kids – to be a threat to him, a being more than three hundred years old who had come back from the dead. Had he recognized them as a threat, Sean knew that he could easily have killed the entire Circle – just as he had killed Sean's mother and so many of the other parents sixteen years ago. Instead, he had waited, trying to convince them all to join him – as Faye had, before she decided, in the end, to stand with the Circle. Or as the Circle believed _he _had – not knowingly, but by being taken over.

Everyone in the Circle was totally convinced that he was a traitor – that he had told Black John everything he knew about the Circle and the Master Tools. Even worse, they were all convinced that he was a murderer. They honestly believed that he had allowed Black John to take over his body and kill Kori and Jeffrey Lovejoy and Mr. Fogle.

No one had said anything to him, not since they first told him what they believed he had done. But he knew they still believed it – every one of them. He could see it in the sidelong looks they all kept giving him; he could feel the cold disdain from Nick and Adam and Melanie. And nobody was talking to him. Not really. Not even Chris or Doug or Laurel or Suzan.

But they were wrong. He hadn't … done what they said he'd done. He _couldn't_ have. Even if he had, he would have remembered it … wouldn't he?

But what if they _were_ right? And he really had been controlled by Black John, and had killed Kori, Jeffrey Lovejoy and Mr. Fogle? And hadn't told anyone what happened? If they were right, then it was his fault that Kori and Jeffrey and Mr. Fogle had died, and it was also his fault that Mrs. Howard had died. And if they were right, then he deserved whatever punishment they might come up with.

Maybe they had already told the police. They'd grab him at school in front of everybody – handcuff him – lock him in jail – or wherever they send seventeen-year-old murderers. And he'd be locked inside a cell –

No. That wouldn't happen. There would have to be a trial – they'd have to prove he was guilty. They would ask him questions – questions about the murders, and the victims; questions about where he was and what he was doing at the time of each murder. They would probably ask him about Black John – Mr. Brunswick, actually; that's the name they would use. And everyone would be staring at him, wondering if he'd done what they accused him of … or wondering why.

He wouldn't be able to answer their questions. He didn't know anything about the murders – nothing more than what everyone had heard at school – and what Adam and Nick and Laurel had told him on the night of the hurricane. But they'd keep staring at him, asking him questions. It would be even worse than being called on in class. And he'd panic, and he wouldn't be able to answer even the simplest questions coherently. He might try to run away, and they'd catch him. Or maybe he would confess to whatever they were accusing him of – no matter what they accused him of – just to end it.

No. It wouldn't happen. The Circle would never tell the outsiders what they believed he had done. Even though every member of the Circle believed that he had killed Kori, and Jeffrey and Mr. Fogle, no one, not even Chris or Doug, thought it was his fault, not exactly. He was a … _container _–that's what Adam had said. A container for the dark energy, for Black John, to use.

Sean stopped at the window and looked outside. The moon was high in the eastern sky. He sighed. The sun wouldn't be up for hours, but there was no way he was going to go back to sleep. He pulled on a sweatshirt, picked up his sneakers, and quietly walked outside.

The air was still, but cold; the night quiet but for the gentle, rhythmic sound of waves breaking against the shore and the water whispering as it flowed back into the sea. Sean walked down the gravel drive. He turned toward town and started off at a slow jog. He sped up to a steady, seven-minute-mile pace when he reached the crossroad at Crowhaven Road and Marsh Street. He kept his gaze straight ahead, on the road – trying not to look at the fallen branches which still littered gardens and driveways or the jagged stumps of fallen trees which remained as too-visible reminders of last week's storm – and Black John …

_No. Don't think about that. _He tried to focus on his pace, on the steady tread of his sneakers pounding the asphalt, on the road in front of him. He ran into town, past the high school, past the middle and grade schools – all the way to the bridge connecting the island with the mainland. He stopped just before the bridge and looked across the bay, toward the distant lights of Salem.

He could just keep going. Get away from New Salem – away from the accusing faces of the members of his Circle. Away from anything that would remind him of Black John … no. He couldn't leave the Circle. No matter how they looked at him. No matter what they planned to do to him. He had given his word, sworn to be loyal to the Circle and those who stood within, to protect and defend them even if it cost him his life. Besides, they were his friends – his family. And they had come to him. Even though they all believed that he'd allowed Black John to use his body to kill Kori and the others, they'd come to him, and asked for his help in defeating Black John. They'd given him a choice – and a chance for atonement for what they believed he'd done. He had stood with them against Black John. Now he would have to stand with them against the outsiders. And today was the first day of school after … the day of the storm. Whatever the outsiders planned, it would start today.

The outsiders already believed that the Club had something to do with Kori's and Jeffrey's and Mr. Fogle's deaths. Most of them probably believed that the Club had killed the new principal, too. It was no secret that Mr. Brunswick had been out to get the members of the Club – and they _had_ caused his disappearance. They couldn't deny that.

But the outsiders wouldn't understand what had happened. The Circle couldn't just tell the truth. If … no. _When_ someone asked him what he knew about what had happened to Mr. Brunswick, Sean couldn't say something like, "Well, I don't know whether or not we killed him. But he wasn't really Mr. Brunswick. He was Black John – that's his real name. He's an evil three-hundred-year old witch who came back from the dead in 1974 to start a new Circle, one he could control. He killed half of our parents – all of them who confronted him – in 1976, and they killed him. He came back again to take over our Circle and find the Master Tools and … do something. Something not good. And he's Cassie's father. And we called on the powers of Nature against him, and Cassie combined those powers with the powers of Earth and Water in the sand of the beach, and pushed it at him, and the crystal skull inside his head shattered and he disappeared. So did the house we were all standing in at Number Thirteen Crowhaven Road – you know, the one that burned down in 1976. But he may not really be dead. He died in 1696 and in 1976, and he came back each time. We don't know if he's going to come back again."

Not a chance. They'd think he was completely insane, and lock him away. But he couldn't lie about what had happened, either; not even if he wanted to. He was a terrible liar. No one would believe him.

A loud motor broke the silence. A grey sedan rounded the bend and passed him, crossing the bridge to the mainland. The sky was beginning to lighten. Sean looked again at the mainland. He sighed, and ran back home.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Secret Circle: **

**Out of the Darkness**

The Secret Circle and its characters aren't mine – they belong to L. J. Smith and HarperCollins Publishers.

**Chapter Two**

Sean shifted his bike to its highest gear and leaned forward, hands in the drops, pedaling as hard and fast as he could along the straight, level stretch of the road. He squinted against the chilling bite of the rushing wind, but he didn't mind the cold. His lungs were burning; so were his legs. Just as he was beginning to think he couldn't keep up his pace for another second, he reached the beginning of a sharp curve. He pedaled for just a few more seconds and stopped, leaning into the curve. The Bianchi took the curve with ease, its tires whispering against the asphalt, accelerating as the road descended.

A motor approached from behind. Sean glanced over his shoulder – a blue pick-up truck was just behind him. The truck gained on him, drew alongside, and passed. Sean looked behind him – the road was clear. He started pedaling again, the steep downhill grade allowing him to turn the biggest gear as if it were the smallest. The bike accelerated. He pulled further into the lane and caught the truck's slipstream, letting it tow him along.

The road leveled and began to rise. The truck pulled ahead. Sean downshifted, again, and again, pedaling hard as the grade steepened. He looked up at the main building of New Salem High School towering like a medieval fortress over the surrounding countryside. He reached the summit and turned onto the bike path.

Faye, Suzan, and Doug were standing next to the east entrance of the school, arguing about something. Nick was standing nearby, waiting silently.

The elation of the bike ride faded, and for a moment Sean was gripped by panic and an intense need to get away. He shook his head briefly in disgust. _Of course_ he was breathing heavily and his heart was racing. He'd been riding at an all-out sprint for most of the last three miles – and the last quarter mile had been up a steep hill. There was no reason for him to be afraid of his own Circle. _No reason_, he thought fiercely, trying to quiet the small voice inside that was all too willing to enumerate all of the reasons.

Slowly, he rode to the nearly empty bike racks and through the open gate. He dismounted and pushed his bike to the space next to Laurel's purple mountain bike. He locked the bike and helmet to the rack.

The first bell rang. Sean looked up, past the dormant redbud trees that shaded the path in spring and summer.

Faye and the others were still waiting.

Sean walked toward them.

"Hey, Sean," Suzan said. She smiled briefly at him and turned back to Faye.

"Hi," he said. His voice sounded tentative; more like a question than a greeting. He didn't return Suzan's smile.

Doug nodded at him, silently, his eyes distant.

Nick just looked at him. Sean couldn't read his expression – as usual.

Faye smiled at him lazily, watching him like a lioness basking in the sun and watching, but not hunting, her prey – yet.

Sean involuntarily stepped away.

If she would just look away …

A deafening roar broke the silence. Deborah's motorcycle crested the hill – and Faye finally looked away.

Deborah nodded at them in greeting as she passed. She parked her motorcycle just outside the bicycle racks.

"Hey. What's up?" she asked as she joined them outside the door.

"We have an assembly this morning," Faye announced. "The vice-principal will be making an announcement. It might be … _important_."

"Like who the principal will be?" Deborah suggested.

"Maybe."

"And maybe … whether it's still open season for Witches," Suzan said.

Faye looked at Suzan and nodded. "Exactly."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go find out." Deborah led the way inside.

* * *

A pair of hall monitors stood just inside the doorway. They didn't say a word as they watched the members of the Club pass, but the tension was almost palpable, as if it could be cut with a knife.

It was the same with all of the outsiders they passed on their way to the auditorium: the small group of sophomore girls, hurrying to take books and notebooks from their lockers, who looked up and nervously watched the members of the Club walk by; the larger group of boys and girls standing inside a classroom, deeply involved in a discussion of something – a discussion which they stopped, their expressions carefully neutral, as soon as they saw the members of the Club; the small group of seniors standing outside the auditorium doors, openly glaring at them as they approached. Every one simply watched – no one said a word.

_They're waiting, too_, Sean realized. Their leader was gone, and nobody knew what was going to happen next.

The rest of the Club was already there, sitting together near the back of the crowded room. Empty seats surrounded them; the outsiders were keeping their distance. Adam was saying something to Cassie and Diana. Laurel and Melanie sat behind them. Laurel looked worried; Melanie, as calm as if nothing had happened. Chris sat beside Melanie, listening to something on his Walkman. Doug took the seat beside him. Sean followed Suzan and the others to the next row, in front of a group of outsiders who kept glancing at the members of the Circle.

Sean kept his gaze fixed in front of him, on the stage, trying to ignore the outsiders sitting behind him. Surrounding him. He could feel their hostile eyes watching him. The tension in the room was thickening. He felt as if he were trying to breathe through a thickening layer of fog – or molasses. He just knew that somebody was going to grab him and drag him away. They'd ask him questions and he wouldn't be able to get away and they'd find out that the Circle really had killed Mr. Brunswick and –

A screech of feedback jolted him back to reality. The pressure of the outsiders' eyes on him was gone.

_It was just your imagination_, he told himself. He looked up at the stage.

The vice-principal was standing behind the podium, adjusting the microphone. "Good morning," he said, his amplified voice filling the otherwise silent auditorium.

"Good morning, Mr. Peters." The auditorium echoed with the students' well-trained response.

"I'm sure many of you are wondering, and worrying, about your future and the future of our school – especially considering the events of the past few months."

Sean stared at him. _Of course_ they were worried. Everyone was – the outsiders as well as the members of the Club. Two students and the principal had been _killed._ A hurricane came within twenty miles of Boston. The school was transformed into a Puritan reformatory. The new principal disappeared. Of course they were wondering and worrying about what was going to happen next.

The vice-principal was still talking, about the honorable intentions of the last administration and the unfortunate consequences of its policies – namely, student turning against student to the extent that many of the students of "the venerable institution of New Salem High" had deigned to involve themselves in a fight – nearly a riot – an event unheard of throughout the history of the school.

His voice droned on and on, talking about the dedication and hard work of Mr. Fogle during the eleven years he had served as principal, telling the students that, because of the unfortunate consequences of the disciplinary policies of Mr. Brunswick's administration, those policies would be terminated, and the policies of the previous administration would be reinstated. He himself would be taking on the position of principal on an interim basis, until after the holidays and the beginning of the New Year – thus enabling the school board to engage in a thorough search for the best possible candidate to permanently assume the position. He was sure that the students would take it upon themselves to focus on the future and to act in such a way as befitted the dignity of an institution of learning – an institution dedicated to the preparation of young people for entrance into college and productive, successful careers.

The vice-principal finished his speech. The auditorium was silent. No one moved. A nearly tangible miasma of fear, hatred, and anger filled the auditorium. Countless hostile eyes were boring into the Circle members; eyes of people who approved of Mr. Brunswick's policies and had no desire for them to be terminated. Sean grabbed onto the sides of his chair and forced himself to remain seated with the rest of the Circle.

"Please make your way to your first-period classes," the vice-principal said at last. Finally, students began to make their way out of the auditorium.

The members of the Club looked at each other.

"We need to have a meeting," Diana said. Her usually kind, gentle face was grim.

"Not here. Not now," Nick said.

Faye smiled. "We'll meet at lunch – in the cafeteria. The hall monitor program seems to have been … disbanded, so the back room should be available again."

Doug grinned. So did Deborah and Chris.

"We'll make sure it's available," Doug said.

"No fighting," Cassie said firmly.

"Cassie's right," Diana agreed.

Nobody argued, not even Deborah or Doug. The Circle members stood, and headed toward their respective classes.

* * *

It was lunchtime. Sean was following Laurel, Suzan, Chris, Doug, and Deborah through the cafeteria to the back room, half listening to Doug and Deborah argue with Chris about a band the three of them had seen in Salem over the weekend, when a group of outsider students stepped in front of them, blocking their path.

"You're not welcome here," a short, stocky boy said flatly.

"Yeah. This is _our_ school. We're taking it back," a tall boy wearing a Letterman jacked added. His tone was belligerent, but he was watching the Club members nervously.

Deborah, the Hendersons, and Suzan were glaring at him.

"Your reign is over," the first boy said.

He turned his back on the members of the Club and followed the other outsiders into the back room. One of them shut the door.

"Leave them alone," Laurel said to Deborah and Chris and Doug. "This isn't the time for a fight."

Doug looked rebellious. So did Deborah. Chris just looked confused.

"Our _reign_?" he asked. "We had a _reign_?"

"Apparently," Suzan said.

"So, this is … a rebellion?" Chris asked.

"Precisely. And these treasonous commoners are attempting to overthrow us," Sean said, attempting an upper-class British accent.

Doug snickered. "Sean, your accent's worse than Chris's."

"Hey, mine's not that bad," Chris said, scowling at his twin.

Sean shrugged. "Yeah, well, I'm Irish."

"So use an Irish accent," Doug said. "They've got a monarchy too."

"They've got a republic."

"No, it's a monarchy."

"No, it isn't!"

"Ireland's part of the United Kingdom, isn't it?" Deborah asked. "And that's a monarchy."

"_Northern_ Ireland is part of the United Kingdom. Not Ireland! Ireland's an independent republic!"

"Guys, that's enough," Laurel said.

"But he said –"

The cafeteria door slammed, and Sean spun around, startled.

"What's going on?" Adam asked as he, Cassie, Diana, and Melanie joined the others in front of the door to the back room.

"They kicked us out of our room," Suzan said petulantly.

Adam looked sharply at her, and at Doug and Chris and Deborah. "It doesn't matter," he said. "We'll eat outside." He turned back to the main door of the cafeteria. Cassie was right behind him. Sean followed them. So did Suzan, Laurel and Deborah.

"Come on, Doug. Let's go," Chris said, tugging his brother's arm and trying to pull him away from the back room and toward the others.

Doug was still glaring at the outsiders just visible through the glass of the door. "This isn't over," he muttered. But he allowed himself to be pulled along, and he followed the others outside.

They walked to the granite outcrop near the stairs in front of the school.

Sean looked involuntarily at the bottom of the hill, where Kori's body had been found, and shuddered. He looked away quickly.

"It's a cease-fire," Adam was saying quietly from his seat beside Cassie. "Peters is playing it safe, putting everything on hold until his successor can be found and named."

"Not necessarily." Nick looked around at everyone. "Just because the vice-principal calls a cease-fire doesn't mean anyone is going to honor it."

"We mustn't start anything with the outsiders," Diana said. She was looking at Doug and Deborah, and Chris, and Nick.

"They already started something," Deborah said angrily. "They kicked us out of our room."

"For today," Suzan said.

The others looked at her.

"They're not always going to leave class early just to sit in the back room. When we get there first, we'll sit there."

Cassie nodded. "That's true. And we don't really know if they want to continue Mr. Brunswick's witch-hunt. Portia and her brothers probably do, but I think some of the others may have just decided that we shouldn't have special privileges that they don't have. I think we should be careful not to give them a reason to join Portia and her brothers."

"She's right," Laurel said. "We've got to be careful, in case the witch hunters still are after us. But we really ought to treat the rest of the outsiders like equals." She returned Faye's glare, unflinching. "I'm _serious_. Our ancestors got along fine with the outsiders – for generations. That's what Granny Quincey says. I think we can too. You know, if we treat them fairly, and don't use our powers against them. And, you know, if they don't have somebody like Black John influencing them."

_They're not going to get along too well with us if they find out what we did to their Mr. Brunswick,_ Sean thought.And they would find out; he was sure of that.

"We won't start anything. For now," Faye was saying. "Until we know their intentions."

"We _already_ know –" Deborah began.

"All we know is that some of them have decided to stand up to us when they want something – like the back room at lunchtime," Adam said. "But we don't know if any of them are planning to try to drive us out of school, or out of New Salem."

"Um, they're, uh … they're going to investigate. You know … Mr. Brunswick's disappearance," Sean spoke up at last. "They're going to … to ask us questions."

Adam looked at him and shrugged. "I'm sure somebody's already started investigating Brunswick's disappearance. He's already been gone for three days – three school days, I mean. Somebody probably will ask us questions. School officials; the police, maybe, if somebody tells them we were involved in Brunswick's disappearance."

"So what?" Deborah asked, scowling at Sean. "We didn't do anything wrong. Who cares if they ask us a few questions?"

"Yeah. We just totaled an evil crystal skull, that's all," Doug said, grinning, as if defeating Black John had been the most exciting experience he'd had in ages. As if he'd like nothing better than to do it again.

Melanie nodded. "I agree. We did nothing wrong, and we have nothing to worry about from the police. But Adam and Sean are right – someone will question us. And we did cause Mr. Brunswick's disappearance. We need to figure out what to say about what happened to him."

"It wasn't Mr. Brunswick at the house," Suzan said, tearing open the cellophane wrapper of a blueberry muffin. "It was Black John."

"Black John _was_ Mr. Brunswick," Chris argued.

"Yes, but "Mr. Brunswick" was a … a persona. A role he put on for the outsiders," Cassie said. "Suzan's right. He wasn't "Mr. Brunswick" at the house. He was … Black John. He wasn't pretending to be anything other than what he really was."

"True," Adam said. He looked at each member of the Circle. "All we need to do, when they question us, is remember that "Mr. Brunswick" is the role Black John played – the role of the principal of New Salem High. We last saw him at school some time around December 9th – the day of the hurricane. We didn't talk with him outside of school on that day. And we didn't do anything to him. _Black John_ is the … person … we confronted at the house out at Number Thirteen and destroyed. They won't ask us about him. And it's true, technically, that we don't know where Mr. Brunswick is now. Black John disappeared when we destroyed him – we don't really know where he is. Not exactly."

"They might not believe … all of us," Faye said.

Sean looked at her. She was watching him. Her golden eyes were narrowed.

He tore his eyes away – but Deborah was watching him, too. So was Doug.

He wanted to run, to get away from the Circle and their accusing eyes. But he'd sworn to stand with them.

He forced himself to stay where he was.

"You're right." It was Laurel who broke the silence. She was staring darkly at Faye. "They might not believe all of us. Some of us probably will look kind of guilty when they ask us what we know about what happened to Black John – I mean Mr. Brunswick. I know _I_ will. It's not like I help to kill somebody every day – evil tri-centenarian or not."

"It doesn't matter if _you_ look guilty," Adam said to Laurel. "Nobody's going to believe you did anything to Brunswick. Or Cassie or Diana or Sean, either."

"They might," Nick said.

"I doubt it," Adam said, turning to Nick. "They're more likely to think _I_ did something to him. Or you, or Deb, or Chris or Doug, or Faye – but none of us will have any problem convincing whoever questions us that we didn't do anything. Neither will Melanie or Suzan. Or Cassie. Besides, they're more likely to think some of us are nervous about being questioned by police, or worried that whatever happened to Brunswick will happen to us, too."

Nick shrugged. "That might be true. But it doesn't matter. The police aren't the problem. They can't prove anything against any of us. The witch hunters are the problem. And they don't care about proof."

The members of the Circle looked at each other.

The bell rang. Sean startled. Cassie looked at him. So did Laurel. He flushed, and looked away.

"I'd better go – I've got a test in French," Melanie said.

"So do I," said Adam.

"We can meet again after school," Cassie said.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Secret Circle: **

**Out of the Darkness**

The Secret Circle and its characters aren't mine – they belong to L. J. Smith and HarperCollins Publishers.

**Chapter Three**

"They didn't threaten us, not really," Diana was saying. She was sitting on a blue-painted bench in Mrs. Howard's garden – _Cassie's and Mrs. Blake's _garden, Sean corrected himself – where the Circle had gathered after school.

"They told us we're not welcome here anymore! I'd say that's a threat!" Deborah's eyes were fierce. She looked feral as she paced along the narrow garden path. She looked ready – even eager – to go after the outsiders.

Raj, who was lying in front of Cassie and Adam, watched her intently, as if waiting for an invitation to play.

"Technically, it isn't a threat," Melanie said. "Nobody said that they would do anything to us. They didn't even say they _might_ do something to us. They just said we aren't welcome. And that's … an opinion. Besides, it was just one group of people who said that."

"It was a big group," Sean said.

Doug looked at him. "It was nine or ten people."

"I doubt they're the only ones who share that opinion," Faye said.

Cassie shook her head. "They're not. I'm sure Portia and her brothers haven't changed their minds about us."

"Cassie's right." Adam stood beside her. He looked protective. Territorial. As if he were eager to dare any outsiders to challenge Cassie or get in her way – and then stop them. "The witch hunters won't let one failure stop them for long."

"But not everyone shares their opinion," Diana said.

"That's true. And we've got to start working with the ones who don't. _And_ we need to focus on environmentalism," Laurel said from her seat beside an ancient apple tree. "We need to protect Mother Earth. What a few outsiders may have said doesn't change that. Because if _we_ don't, who will?"

"Yes," Melanie said. "Environmentalism is important. But improving relations with the outsiders has to be our first priority."

"We can try to get along with some of them," Doug said grudgingly. "But if they try … if they start _anything_ …" his eyes glowed fiercely.

"We're going to finish it," Chris said.

Deborah and Faye nodded their agreement.

"What do _you_ think we should do, Cassie?" Adam asked.

All arguments ceased. Everyone turned to look at the Circle's newest – and youngest – leader.

She looked good. Her blue-and-white sweater and blue jeans fit perfectly. Her long hair gleamed in the sunlight. Her sea-blue eyes – they were mesmerizing. She met Sean's eyes for only the briefest of moments as she looked around at everyone in the Circle, but he couldn't look away.

Cassie looked at Adam.

Adam nodded at her, encouraging her. She seemed to draw strength from his confidence.

"I think … I _know_ we need to improve relations with the outsiders. With all of them – even the ones who hate us. We need to at least come to an agreement to leave them alone if they leave us alone. But Laurel's right. There are other things we need to do, too. We do need to protect the Earth, like she said. And Melanie wants to learn more about the Master Tools and decide what to do with them …" she stopped.

"Faye wants to hex people," Deborah offered.

"I hope it's none of us she wants to hex." Doug said, grinning wickedly at Faye.

Faye shot him a look, and turned to Deborah. "Sure I do. But I also think we should find a new principal."

"I think the school board will do that," Diana said, looking at Faye. She looked confused.

"Of course they will," Faye said, turning to face Diana. The challenge in her bearing and in her glowing golden eyes belied her bland smile. "But I didn't particularly care for the last principal our school board hired. It's … _possible_ … that they could have chosen a better candidate."

Cassie laughed. "That's the understatement of the year."

"Or of the millennium," Adam said, grinning.

No one reminded Faye that she had liked the last principal well enough, before.

"Are any of your parents, or Granny Quincey or Great-Aunt Constance or Mrs. Franklin, on the school board?" Cassie asked. "I think my grandma was. Or else she knew someone who was.

"Aunt Constance is," Melanie said. "She's the assistant chair. Mrs. Henderson is the secretary. And Mrs. Howard was a member, too."

Cassie nodded and turned to Faye.

"We can talk to them and ask them to suggest that the school board look for a different _kind_ of principal than the last one they hired," Faye said.

"Yeah, like one who's human," Doug said.

"And sane," Chris added.

"One who isn't afraid of us – and who doesn't hate us," Melanie said thoughtfully.

"I think we should try to find other Witches and tell them about what happened here and see if they have any suggestions – or if they want the position," Adam said.

"Other witches?" Cassie asked him. Her eyes were wide with astonishment. "I thought you … _we_ … I thought we were the only ones –"

"We're the only surviving descendents of the Witches who founded New Salem," Adam said. "At least, we're the only ones that we know of. But there must have been other Witches alive in 1692 besides the ones who lived in Salem and came here to found New Salem. At least some of the others must have descendents who are still alive. And some of our ancestors' descendents may have left New Salem, to pass as outsiders and give up the old ways –"

"Like my mom," Cassie interrupted.

Adam nodded.

"And some may have left to join other Witches – and even outsiders who've become witches," Laurel said. "Not hereditary witches who can call on the powers like we can, you know, but people who've adopted some of the old ways. And who've gone to work as activists against war, and nuclear weapons, and nuclear power, and to work for animal rights, and to protect the forests and rivers, and –"

"Yes," Melanie interrupted. "There are other Witches out there. And there are a lot of people – including outsiders – who care about at least some of the things that are important to us."

Faye nodded impatiently. "We know that. And I, for one, think it would be better if one of those people was our new principal than, say, a professional witch hunter."

There were a few nervous laughs from the Circle.

"She's right," Adam said. "We need someone who will be on our side – or at least someone who won't be out to get us. Someone who won't try to continue the policies Brunswick instated."

There was a murmur of assent around the Circle.

"Well, why don't we do all of those things? I mean, well, maybe not hexing anybody," Laurel said, casting a disapproving glance at Faye.

Faye looked at Laurel and raised an eyebrow. She didn't say anything, but her eyes were cold.

"Hexing someone – that's kind of personal. It wouldn't be a project for the entire Circle," Diana said diplomatically.

Faye turned to Diana. "Perhaps you're right," she said mildly.

"Diana _is_ right," Laurel said. "We _should_ try to do everything we've been talking about. Including trying to make sure the school board hires a decent principal this time. And we can start an environmental club at school – with the outsiders. We can help out with the recycling program and plant trees and make sure the cafeteria sells organic vegan food _every_ day – you know, things like that. And we can learn about the Master Tools and work with them when it's just us – like at ceremonies."

"She's right," Sean said. "And, uh, we can … we can drive less. You know, we can bicycle or walk instead. Or at least carpool."

Laurel smiled at him.

Melanie glanced at him disdainfully, but she nodded solemnly at Laurel. "Yes. But I don't think an environmental club would make much difference –"

"Of course it would!"

"I mean, it won't make much difference with respect to the relations between us and the outsiders. Outsiders who would join an environmental club aren't likely to be the ones who'd join a witch-hunt."

"But it would be a start," Laurel said. "We'd be working with some of them – we'd get to know each other better."

"Misunderstanding arising from ignorance breeds fear, and fear remains the greatest enemy of peace," Adam quoted. "So conversely – well, getting to know each other would be a start."

"That's true," Suzan said. "Maybe we'll all find out that we share some of the same interests. Like the Yule Ball."

Laurel nodded. "And recycling. That's something most people already do. Most of the time."

"Change won't happen overnight." Diana said thoughtfully. "Even if something like Laurel's environmental club only makes a little difference, it'll be a start. And we don't have any better ideas – that is, nothing concrete."

"Sure we do," Doug spoke up. "We got ideas. Like a party, you know? To make up for all the birthdays we missed? _I _want a beach party like Adam and Nick and Melanie got."

"Okay by me," Deborah said.

"Kori didn't get a party for her birthday," Chris said quietly. He glanced sideways at Sean. So did Doug.

Sean flinched and looked away. He stared intently at a fallen maple leaf, its crimson brilliant against the tans and browns of the chipped bark path – but he could still feel their eyes on him. Predatory eyes. And he was the prey. Just like before, when Doug and Nick and Adam had jumped out at him from behind his locker and grabbed him, and Doug and Nick dragged him through the school and outside into the parking lot and into Adam's Jeep – and the way they _looked_ at him …

He shuddered. Their eyes – even Doug's – had been as hard as diamonds. And they didn't say anything when they dragged him inside the Jeep, or during the long drive to Adam's house. None of them said a word. And then they dragged him inside Adam's house. They held him still and pulled off his belt and they wouldn't let him go and he tried and tried to escape, and Deborah was there too, and Chris, and Laurel, and they were all staring at him as if he was the rabbit and they were the wolves and they pulled off his sweater and his shirt and his belt and they wouldn't let him go and he couldn't get away and they took off the leather pouch that he was wearing and they dumped him in the bathtub and they told him that he had … that he had betrayed them … and he had … killed …

A furry head nudged him.

Sean jumped. Raj was standing in front of him, staring at him intently, his ears flat against his head. The dog whined, and nudged Sean again.

"Hey, Sean! You okay?"

Sean looked up. Suzan was looking at him oddly. Laurel was watching him, too.

"I-I-I … uh, yeah. I … I'm fine." He looked away and turned back to Raj. The big dog was still standing there, watching him.

Sean scratched the dog behind his ears. "Thanks," he whispered.

Raj wagged his tail.

Sean glanced at the others.

Laurel and Suzan had turned away from him and were listening to something Diana was saying. Chris and Doug were arguing.

"Okay. Fine. We won't have a birthday party this year," Doug said, scowling at Chris.

"Well, I think you should," Faye said. She was watching Chris with an odd expression. "Think about it, Chris. Kori loved birthdays, and holidays – and parties. She'd want you to have a real party."

Chris looked at her dubiously.

"What if we held a party in her honor?" Diana suggested.

"Like a – what's it called? A wake?" Laurel asked.

"Yes," Nick said.

Doug glanced at Chris, but didn't say anything.

"Next Monday's Yule," Suzan said suddenly.

Everyone looked at her.

"I'm just saying – we could have a Yule party instead of another birthday party. And it could be in Kori's honor. She always liked Yule."

"What do you think?" Cassie asked Chris.

"I, uh … I guess that would be okay."

"Doug?"

"Sure. That's fine by me."

Cassie turned to Faye. "I don't know very much about Yule," she said. "And I don't know the first thing about organizing a party. What do you –"

"_I_ do," Faye interrupted. Her usually predatory smile was genuine – and enthusiastic. "I'll organize it. It'll be … fun."

"Thank you," Cassie said. Her smile at the older girl seemed forced.

Sean looked at Faye, who was saying something to Suzan. He hoped Faye would remember that not everyone in the Circle shared the same ideas of "fun".

"Diana?" Cassie turned to the Circle's first leader. "I think … well, you know a lot more about Witchcraft than I do. It's going to take a lot of work to figure out what, exactly, we need to do – to improve relations with the outsiders or to start a club or … well, whatever else we need to do. I don't know the first thing about where to start. What do you think we should do?"

"Well, I guess Laurel and I can organize an environmental club at school," Diana said thoughtfully. "We can talk with a couple of teachers who might be willing to agree to be the teacher advisers. I'm sure Laurel would be willing to suggest ideas for projects at the first meeting."

"Of course!" Laurel said enthusiastically. "And I'll talk to outsiders who I think might be interested."

"I also think we should have a Yule ceremony, in addition to the party. Faye, do you want to –"

"You can lead the ceremony," Faye offered magnanimously. "We can have it right after the party."

Sean stared at Faye. All three of the Circle's leaders – even Faye –were not only speaking to one another civilly; they were actually working together. He hadn't thought the triumvirate leadership arrangement the Circle agreed to at its last official meeting would work at all, not with Faye as one of the leaders, but maybe he'd been mistaken. Cassie seemed to be taking the initiative to be sure it would work – and Diana and Faye were already not only listening to her – they were following her example.

"You can help me plan the ceremony," Diana said to Cassie. She was practically glowing with pride as she looked at the younger girl. "In the meantime, it's getting late. I think we should formally end the meeting, unless anyone else has anything to add.

No one did, and the Circle gradually broke up.

* * *

There was a light on in the kitchen when Sean got home. His father was standing at the counter beside the sink.

Sean walked inside. "Hi, Dad," he said quietly.

His father looked up from the plate he was drying. His expression was grim. "Sean. It's late – and it's a school night."

Sean looked at the pine-board floor. He didn't tell his father where he had been. Mr. Dulany did not approve of the Circle at all. "I … I'm sorry. I'll, uh, I'll finish my homework tonight. I don't have that much." He headed for the stairs.

Mr. Dulany sighed. "Have you eaten yet?"

Sean stopped at the foot of the stairs and shook his head. "No."

"There's pasta and sauce on the stove and salad in the refrigerator. Go ahead and eat first. Then finish your homework."

Sean nodded. "I will."

"I've got some reading to catch up on," Mr. Dulany said. He was already walking toward the stairs. "Good night."

"Good night." Sean ate quickly, washed the dishes, and hurried upstairs to his room. He finished the last couple of problems of his algebra homework. He took out his physics text, read the chapter about batteries and resistors, and worked through the calculations of voltages and currents. He finished the assigned pages of French translations. He put the homework and textbooks away, pulled out his guitar, and played.

The waning gibbous moon was high in the eastern sky when he finally put the guitar away. Maybe tonight he'd be tired enough that he could sleep – sleep, but not dream.

Sean turned out the lamp and climbed into bed.

Tired as he was, it was still a long time before he fell asleep. And he awakened, yet again, well before dawn, terrified and drenched with sweat. But this time he couldn't remember what he'd dreamed about.

Nor could he go back to sleep. It was still dark, even after he worked out on the gym and got ready for school. He took his guitar out of its case and played until the sky began to lighten and the sun rose.

* * *

Two strangers wearing business suits, a tall, heavy man with short hair and a neatly trimmed mustache and a young woman with long brown hair pulled neatly into a ponytail, were sitting near the front of the classroom, talking with Mr. Harrison, the teacher, when Sean walked to his first-period English class.

Sean's heart sank. The strangers were police – they had to be. And they must be here to question him.

He hesitated, tempted to leave before they saw him. But they'd find him, eventually. He might as well get it over with now, before the other students arrived.

He opened the door and walked inside.

"Good morning, Sean," Mr. Harrison said.

"Morning," Sean replied quietly, forcing himself to look up at the teacher.

Mr. Harrison was watching him. His eyes seemed sympathetic.

"Sean, these folks are police detectives. They'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind?" Mr. Harrison asked. His deep voice sounded hesitant – almost apologetic.

_Of course_ he minded. He didn't want to be interrogated by the police. He wanted to run, to get away from them, to stay away from their questions and their accusing eyes.

He didn't run. He looked at the strangers nervously. The woman was watching him, patiently. Her dark eyes seemed kind. The man was looking at his watch.

_They aren't accusing you of anything, you idiot. Calm down. They probably got a tip about the Club being involved in Mr. Brunswick's disappearance. They're going to ask _everyone_ questions. You knew that already. You've got to answer their questions or they'll get suspicious and they'll find out _–

"I'm Detective Mitchell," the woman said. Her voice was low-pitched and calm. "This is Detective Schneider." She hesitated for a moment, still watching him.

Sean waited silently.

"You're Sean Dulany?" she finally asked.

He nodded.

"And you live on Crowhaven Road?"

He nodded again.

"We apologize for taking you away from class," the man said in clipped, brisk syllables. "We'll finish as quickly as possible. In the meantime, please come with us."

Sean stared at him in horror. Come with them? Where? _Why_? They hadn't even asked him anything yet. They couldn't already know about what the Circle had done to Mr. Brunswick – no, to _Black John_ – or what the Circle believed _he'd_ done before that – could they?

"We'll just go down the hall, to the staff room," the woman said. She sounded amused.

Sean glanced at her.

She was trying to hide a smile. "You're not under arrest," she said. "We simply have some routine questions we need to ask various people – including many of the students here – regarding the disappearance of your principal, Mr. Brunswick."

Sean nodded. He didn't relax, but the feeling of incipient panic faded to a vague anxiety. He followed the woman down the hall into the staff room. The man walked behind him.

The woman gestured to a chair, and Sean sat. A tape recorder stood on the table in front of him. The man sat nearby, in a chair at the end of the table. His eyes were half closed as if he were nearly asleep.

The woman sat across from Sean. "As I said, we need to ask you some routine questions," she began. Her voice was calm and patient. "We will be taping this, so please state your answers verbally. Are you ready to begin?"

Sean nodded hesitantly. "I … uh, yeah. Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you." She reached across the table and pressed a button on the tape recorder. "Please state your full name and address for the record."

"Um, my … my full name is Sean Cierán Dulany." He spelled it for them, and told them his address.

"And you're a student at New Salem High School?"

_Obviously_, he thought.He nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I … I'm a junior."

The questions went on and on – seemingly inane questions about school, and the classes he was taking, and the other students who lived on Crowhaven Road.

And then the other detective spoke up. "Tell me what you know about Jack Brunswick," he said. He was sitting up alertly now, watching Sean intently.

Sean hesitated. He couldn't tell them the truth. They wouldn't believe him anyway."Uh, he … he's the, uh, the principal here," he said instead. "The new one. He just started a couple of weeks ago. And I guess … I guess he disappeared or something last week. They, uh, they canceled school and everything on Thursday and Friday. After the hurricane."

Both detectives were nodding. "When did you see him last?" the woman asked.

Sean hesitated again. _Mr. Brunswick. She's asking about Mr. Brunswick. Not Black John. _"I … I don't know. I, uh … I don't remember if I saw him last Wednesday or not. I … we all left early, because of the storm."

"So you last saw him at school?"

He nodded.

She looked pointedly at the tape recorder.

"I … I'm sorry. Yes. I last saw him at school."

"And you don't remember when that was?"

He shook his head. "No. It was before … before the storm. The, uh … the hurricane. But I … I don't remember what day."

"Have you seen him, or spoken with him, outside of school?"

"I … uh, yeah. I've seen him. He went to … to Mrs. Howard's funeral. Just before he started at school. But I didn't say anything to him."

The detectives looked at each other.

_Don't ask if I've spoken to him outside of school any other time. Please, please don't ask that_. He must have, if the other members of the Circle were right about him telling Black John things about the Circle. But he couldn't remember.

"Who is – was – Mrs. Howard?" the woman asked instead.

"Mrs. Howard … um, Maeve. Maeve Howard. She … she was my next-door neighbor. At Number Twelve. Um, Crowhaven Road. And she … she … she's Cassie's grandma. And … and …" his voice broke and he stopped. To his horror, tears filled his eyes. Mrs. Howard had been more than Cassie's grandma. She'd been like a grandma to him, too. She had always been kind to him and willing to teach him new things – not just reading and writing and math, but how to plant and tend a garden, prepare food, chop wood, and fix things around the house – even when his own father told him he was too little, even when everybody else thought he wasn't smart enough. And now she was gone.

_Stop thinking about her,_ he told himself fiercely. He looked up at the detective. She was talking again. "Okay. She was a close neighbor. And she died recently?"

He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and nodded. "Yeah. On Diana's and Faye's birthday," he said, relieved that his voice sounded almost steady despite the lump in his throat. "Um, November 10th. There was a … a fire at her house. And she, uh … she had a heart attack."

There were more questions. About the people who had been killed – Kori, and Jeffrey Lovejoy, and Mr. Fogle. About Mr. Brunswick. He heard himself answering their questions – or trying to.

Finally, it was over. Both detectives thanked him for his time and walked with him back to class. Sean hurried to the empty seat next to Suzan, trying to ignore the stares of the outsiders.

Suzan looked up from her notebook. "What happened?" she whispered as Sean sank into the chair.

"They … they asked me about Mrs. Howard," he replied irrelevantly.

But Suzan just nodded. She didn't ask him any more questions. She looked toward the teacher's desk, where Mr. Harrison was saying something to the two detectives. All three of the adults were looking at her.

She turned to Sean. "I guess I'm next. Um, we're supposed to be writing an essay about … whatever. A subject of our choice. It's supposed to be at least five paragraphs, and we're supposed to type it tonight and turn it in tomorrow."

"Okay. Thanks," he said. He glanced at her notebook, where a sketch of a dolphin jumping out of the water was taking shape.

Suzan followed his gaze and smiled. "I haven't started mine yet." She looked at the front of the room. The three adults were walking toward her. She rolled her eyes. "I'd better go. See you at lunch." She put her notebook and pencil away and picked up her backpack.

"Okay. Good luck."

"Thanks." She walked over to the teacher and the police detectives. Mr. Harrison said something to her. She shrugged and followed the detectives out the door.

Sean glanced at his backpack, but he knew he wouldn't be able to write a decent essay. Not now. He left the backpack shut and turned to the window, staring vacantly outside and waiting for the bell to ring.

"Are you all right?" a deep voice asked quietly from above him.

He whirled around, staring up wildly. His heart started pounding.

The teacher was standing next to his desk, looming above him.

Sean cringed.

Mr. Harrison took a step back and sat in Suzan's empty chair. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Sean stared at him mutely.

The teacher watched him for a moment. "You don't have to stay in class if you're not feeling up to it right now. The class is writing essays; I'll give you the assignment tomorrow."

Sean nodded. He didn't trust his voice to speak. He grabbed his backpack and walked out the door and through the empty hallways. He started running as soon as he was outside. He ran past the parking lot, past the old science building.

A joyful bark sounded from the grove of red cedar. Raj galloped toward him and jumped up to greet him. Sean silently rubbed the dog's ears and walked past the trees to the granite outcrop just below the summit of the hill. He climbed across the rock and scooted into the crevice beneath the overhang. Raj followed, lying in front of Sean. It wasn't a spacious seat – the space beneath the overhang was barely deep enough even for him to sit upright – but it was screened from the school and from the road. No one could see him unless they knew where to look – or decided to climb the rock and look inside the crevice. Sean leaned against the rock behind him and closed his eyes.

* * *

"Sean? Are you in there?" It was Laurel's voice, calling from somewhere nearby.

Raj barked once and ran out to greet her.

Sean wiped his eyes roughly with his sleeve. "I … yeah. I'm here," he said. His voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Hi, Raj," Laurel said. "Sean! Can you hear me? Answer me!"

"Yeah. I can hear you."

Laurel climbed across the rock and stopped in front of the overhang. Raj followed her and lay down beside her, in a sunny patch on the rock. "Sean? Are you in there?"

"Yeah."

"May I come in?"

"Yeah."

She crouched down and sat underneath the overhang, near the edge. "Are you okay?"

He shrugged. "Yeah."

"Why don't you come on out? Everybody's meeting out front for lunch. I think the police questioned everybody in the Club today. Let's go find out how that went."

He shook his head. He didn't want to face anyone. And he didn't want to answer any more questions. Not even from the members of the Circle.

She looked at him. "Suzan told me about this morning. She said you did fine. The police believe you. They don't think you did anything wrong."

He shrugged. "I know."

Laurel sat quietly for a few minutes. "I miss her too. Mrs. Howard was … special. She always knew what to say, what to do. She was like a grandmother to me. And a friend."

Sean looked up and nodded. "Yeah. She … she was."

"Um, you're not really planning on staying in that cave all day, are you?"

He grinned wryly. "I guess not."

"Good." Laurel climbed out and stood up. "It's much nicer out here."

Sean followed her out and stood, stiffly, blinking in the bright sunlight until his eyes adjusted.

Laurel looked at him sharply, but kindly didn't say anything about his appearance. "Let's go find the others," she said instead. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and stood, waiting for him to join her.

Sean hesitated, and shook his head. "No. I … I'll just go to the library."

"But Diana and Cassie and Faye want everybody to be there," Laurel said. "So everyone will know what's going on. Besides, Suzan's worried about you."

Sean bit his lip. He didn't say anything.

Laurel waited. "Please?" she said, after a moment.

He sighed. "Okay." He picked up his backpack and followed her toward the school.

Raj walked beside them, his tail waving, as they walked to the front of the main building. The rest of the Club was already there, sitting near the granite outcrop by the stairs. Raj ran ahead to greet Adam, Cassie, Diana, and the others.

Sean looked down at his sneakers as he walked toward the other Circle members. He sat beside the rock, leaning against it. He didn't look at the steps, or at the bottom of the hill. He didn't look at anyone, not even when he felt questioning eyes watching him. He stared at the closely cut grass in front of him and waited for the questions he knew they would ask.

But nobody said anything to him. He looked up. The Club members were sitting near him, eating lunch and talking about the morning's events.

"They're a couple of idiots," Doug was saying. "They asked me if I knew any of the victims. What'd they think? Kori was our _sister_! And they knew it – they knew my last name, and hers. And they'd already talked with Chris!"

"And they should have guessed that you and me are related," Chris said solemnly.

Doug laughed. "Yeah, they should have," he agreed. "Our last name is a dead giveaway."

Chris grinned.

"They were just doing their jobs," Diana said. "They asked what they were supposed to ask. They probably didn't expect to learn anything from any of us, so they weren't really thinking about what they were saying."

"It was a total waste of time," Suzan complained. "I was supposed to be working on an essay for English. Now I'm going to have to write it at home."

Sean glanced at her sideways.

He looked away when she caught his eye, but he almost smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Secret Circle: **

**Out of the Darkness**

The Secret Circle and its characters aren't mine – they belong to L. J. Smith and HarperCollins Publishers.

**Chapter Four**

In his dream, Sean was standing in the meeting place in front of the school, looking around for … something. For some reason, he couldn't remember what. He felt strange, as if something – some presence that had insinuated itself inside his mind – was preventing him from formulating a clear thought. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but his mind still felt foggy.

"Hi, Sean!"

He looked up. Kori was walking toward him, grinning.

It was her birthday, he remembered, the fog lifting slightly from his mind. And it was the day she would be initiated into the Circle. He smiled at her. "Hey, Kori. Happy birthday – and congratulations!"

"Thank you! I can't believe it's today! I've been waiting forever. And now I'm finally fifteen! I can hardly wait until tonight!"

Kori kept talking, but Sean no longer heard her. The presence he'd vaguely sensed before was getting stronger, and he couldn't focus on anything else. And he couldn't make it go away.

_Push her_. He couldn't tell if the voice in his head was his own or that of the presence inside his mind. But the compulsion was irresistible. His hand reached out.

He tried to stop his hand and back away from Kori, but he couldn't move. He couldn't yell at her to run away; he couldn't make a sound. He could only stare in horror as his own hand shoved her; as she swayed, caught her balance – and looked at him. She looked confused, as if she couldn't figure out what on Earth he was doing – or why.

_Push her! _The voice said again, even more insistently than before. Sean's hand reached out and shoved harder, with more force than his own body should have generated.

This time, she fell.

Sean tried to reach out, to catch her, but he still couldn't move. He couldn't help her. And he couldn't look away. He watched for an eternity as she fell. She landed, headfirst, at the bottom of the hill – and then there was silence. He hadn't noticed that she was screaming until she stopped. She didn't move. And the way she was lying …

He tried to scream, but his throat was still frozen. And he couldn't look away. It was a dream – he knew it was a dream – but he couldn't wake up. He could only stare, until the fog that had seemed to fill his mind crept over his eyes and everything went grey. He sank to the ground.

_Get up. Get away from here. _He found himself standing and walking toward the road. His gait was odd – a stiff, slow, robotic gait not at all like his usual quick stride. He reached the main road, and broke into a run. He ran for a mile … two … three … at last he reached the bridge. He stopped, looking out over the bay. A peculiar notion crept into his mind – that he'd awakened that morning and gone for a run, jogging down the trail, onto the road, and to the bridge – and that he hadn't been anywhere near the school. He shook his head to clear it – and looked around in confusion. He was standing at the side of the road near the bridge to the mainland. The sun was low over the eastern horizon. He turned and ran home.

Sean opened his eyes. He was in his own room. It was dark. Not even moonlight lit the room. He sat up shakily.

_It was only a dream_, he told himself. But he wasn't sure he believed that, this time. It had been too real, too vivid. And it fit with what he knew about Kori's death – and with what Adam and Laurel had told him about what he had done.

_No! It was a _dream!" he told himself fiercely. He jumped up and raced down the hallway to the stairs. The second step creaked loudly, and he flinched.

"Sean? Is that you?"

Sean froze. His father's bedroom door opened, lamp-light illuminating the stairs.

"I-I-I … uh, yeah. I … I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.

"You didn't." His father stepped into the hallway. "You all right?"

Sean looked up. His father was watching him, his dark eyes steady and sober. "I … I'm fine," he said.

Mr. Dulany nodded. "Good."

"I, uh, I was just going downstairs … to the gym …"

"That's fine." Mr. Dulany turned back to his room, and stopped. "Actually, I want to talk to you for a minute, first." He walked over to the top step and sat down. "Have a seat."

"Okay." Sean sat, watching his father nervously.

"I just wanted to tell you – I know what you did, you and your … Circle. On the night of the hurricane…" Mr. Dulany's voice trailed off and he jumped up and started to pace, back and forth, his heavy boots pounding steadily and loudly against the pine-board floor of the hallway.

"You stood up to … to _him_. The Man in Black; John Blake; Black John – whatever name he was using this time. Something I should have done sixteen – almost seventeen years ago. I wanted to tell you … I'm sorry. For not fighting him, for leaving Eve and Nicholas and Mary and Liz and all the others to fight him alone. And I'm sorry that I've never told you what happened that night – the night your mother … died. But you deserve to know.

"I knew John Blake couldn't be trusted. I knew he was planning something … bad. I knew we had to stop him. But I wanted to wait. To find out what exactly he was planning; to find out how to stop him. They didn't think we could afford to wait. Eve – your mother – she told me to stay and take care of you. She told me that they were just going to talk to him ..." his voice trailed off.

Sean watched him pace across the floor. He didn't say anything. He didn't tell his father why he'd assumed he had stayed behind when his mother went to face Black John.

His father stared at him – and laughed. There was no humor in the sound.

Sean shivered involuntarily.

"I might as well have been drunk," his father said harshly. "I wasn't. But I let her go, alone, to her death.

"I couldn't have saved her. I couldn't have stopped _him_. I know that. And I _didn't_ know he was going to hurt anyone. But I knew he was planning something bad, and I should have been there when the others confronted him. I knew he wasn't … right. I should never have let her go alone."

Sean looked away, staring at a knot on the wooden step.

"But I did," his father said. "It was wrong, and your mother died before you could get to know her. She was ten times – a hundred times – the parent I am. She … she was always holding you, smiling at you – she always knew what you needed before you even started to cry. She understood you. And I … I have … well, I'm sorry."

"But what _I_ did … you didn't … you never … you never killed anyone. And … and I …" Sean couldn't continue.

Mr. Dulany sighed. "You're right. I didn't kill anyone – but I should have. Black John killed Eve. He killed them all. And that's something I've had to live with for almost seventeen years. I should have gone with them when they killed him. He was … he wasn't a man. Not anymore. I don't even know if he ever really was a man. He was … evil. You – and your … Circle – you did the right thing in killing him. I'm proud of you."

Sean stared at his father in silence. _Now _his father had decided to be proud of him? And to accept the Circle?

"You … you're right," Sean said at last. "The Circle did the right thing." And that was true. But his father didn't know about what the Circle believed _he_ had done before they went to face Black John. And he couldn't tell him. He didn't even know, not for sure, whether or not they were right. He didn't remember killing anybody. But his dreams were awfully vivid. They seemed too real to be dreams.

"It's got to be nearly 5:00," Mr. Dulany said suddenly. "I'd better go get ready for work."

"Okay."

"I'll see you later."

"Okay."

Sean waited until his father's door was shut. He walked back to his room, grabbed a sweatshirt and his sneakers, and hurried back downstairs. He could use the gym later. Now, he just wanted to get away.

He quietly walked outside and put on his sneakers.

* * *

He ran hard, leaning into the icy bite of the December wind. He tried to focus on the trail beneath his feet, on the plants growing alongside: burgundy-leafed bayberry; beach plum and sumac and oak – skeletal in the pre-dawn dimness – interspersed with the dark green of sheep laurel, holly, red cedar, pitch pine and white pine. He focused on the cliffs nearby and the sea below, its surface choppy in the wind. He focused on his breathing, his running.

He slowed as the road steepened, and looked up. He was at the point of the headland – and the blood-red house was there, standing solidly before him on the vacant lot at Number Thirteen. A presence was creeping into his mind, the same presence he'd felt in his dreams.

He was inside the house. The Circle members were saying something to the tall man standing in front of them. Cassie was telling them all to think with her, and she pushed with her mind, filling Sean's mind momentarily with power and the images of all of the elements of Nature, and taking his power.

The skull exploded. A scream pierced the air, and stopped. The floor disappeared from under him, and he fell.

The blood-red house vanished. Sean was back at the high school, standing on the hill out front, talking with Kori, wishing her a happy birthday.

_P__ush her_.

His hand reached out – he couldn't stop it. He tried to tell her to run, but he couldn't make a sound. His hand pushed her; she swayed, and caught her balance. Her expression was bewildered as she stared at him.

_Push her! _

He did. This time she fell, all the way to the bottom of the hill. She lay there, nearly hidden by the thicket of sumac and juniper and willow. She didn't move. Her face was pale, half shrouded by a cloak of golden hair; the position of her body – of her neck – was … wrong.

He couldn't look away.

* * *

"You okay? Sean?"

A hand touched his shoulder. Sean gasped and flinched away. He tried to run, but he couldn't move. His eyes wouldn't focus; the world around him seemed to be a senseless blur of dull colors.

Hands grasped his shoulders. He tried to pull away.

"Steady there. Sean, take it easy," the voice said. "Come on, sit down. Breathe slowly. Calm down. You're all right."

The voice kept talking. It was familiar – and it wasn't the horrible voice that had spoken in his head.

Nick. It was Nick's voice.

"What's wrong?" a different voice; a girl's voice.

He recognized that voice. Cassie.

Sean blinked. He looked up. Nick was kneeling in front of him, speaking slowly and soothingly – as if he were talking to a skittish horse. Cassie stood beside him. They were on the wide granite ledge near the shoulder of Crowhaven Road, in front of the vacant lot at Number Thirteen – and it _was_ vacant, now – miles from the school and the hill in front, the hill where he'd … _no! Don't think about that! It was just a dream – a nightmare. You didn't do it!_

Sean forced himself to look away from the place where the house had been that night. He looked down, focusing on the granite. He closed his eyes and put both hands on the rock. He felt a strong, steady, peaceful thrum of energy; a sensation of immense patience and tolerance.

After a long moment, he opened his eyes and glanced at Nick and Cassie. Cassie was sitting beside him, watching him. She looked worried. Or guilty – as if she blamed herself for what he'd done, or for not stopping him in time. Nick was kneeling in front of Sean, staring out at the sea.

"I'm sorry," Sean whispered.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Nick said, turning back to Sean.

Cassie nodded. "Sean, you're safe now. We're all safe. He's not coming back again."

"I know." Sean looked away, biting his lip – hard enough to taste blood. Black John might be gone, but the memories, or whatever they were, weren't. Sean's eyes burned, but he wouldn't cry in front of Cassie. _She_ wasn't crying – and look what she'd been through. She'd lost her grandma, nearly lost her mother, found out that Black John was her father – and she was not only holding herself together, she was drawing the Circle together. And now she was trying to comfort him.

It was too much.

"I ... I'm sorry," he said, his voice breaking. He jumped up and bolted, running as fast and hard as he could.

"Let him go," he heard Nick tell Cassie.

Sean passed Cassie's house. He vaulted over the stone wall dividing her yard from his and ran through the garden. He slowed to a jog and carefully followed the path through the thicket of gooseberry, beach plum, hazelnut, and wild rose, avoiding the prickly branches that were starting to grow into the path. He pulled open the door of the old playhouse and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He picked up the old guitar that stood in the corner next to a shelf filled with old comic books. He sank down onto the worn pine-board floor, leaning wearily against the wall. He was too tired to run any further, too tired to ride. He sat there, holding the polished wood of the old guitar until his hands stopped trembling, and his breathing steadied, and his heart quieted and slowed.

Finally he played, his chin resting on the guitar. He focused on the movement of his fingers up and down the fretboard, the fingering of the arpeggios, the mellow tone of the old instrument. The morning sun peeked tentatively through the ivy-covered lattice windows, shining inside, but still he played.

A loud roar filled the air. Sean started. Then he recognized the sound – the motor of his father's truck. The roar grew louder as Mr. Dulany pulled out of the garage; it quieted a bit when he stopped the truck and left it idling while he shut and locked the garage door. It grew louder again when he pulled forward and turned onto the road; it receded as he drove away.

Sean took a shaky breath, and started playing again.

Another motor sounded; a quieter one. It, too, grew louder, and then receded into the distance – Cassie, driving her white Volkswagen to school. Or maybe it was Mrs. Blake driving somewhere.

Still he played.

Finally his fingers, no longer accustomed to long hours of practice, rebelled. He sighed. He stood the guitar carefully in the corner and walked slowly to the house to get ready for school.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Secret Circle: **

**Out of the Darkness**

The Secret Circle and its characters aren't mine – they belong to L. J. Smith and HarperCollins Publishers. Portions of the dialogue on page 15 is from The Secret Circle: Volume III, The Power, page 293.

**Chapter Five**

Sean rode to school slower than he'd ever ridden on the Bianchi, hoping no one would see him, hoping he wouldn't have to talk to anybody.

He locked his bike to an empty rack and trudged up the path. He glanced at a clock, grabbed the textbooks and notebooks for his next few classes from his locker, and walked to his third period history class. His footsteps echoed through the empty hallways. He sat beside the wall across from the door, pulled the novel he was reading out of his backpack, and opened it, but he couldn't concentrate on the story. He waited, staring blankly at the page, until the bell rang ending second period. He hurried inside to an empty seat in the back of the room and opened his book again, pretending to read. No one spoke to him.

Sean walked through the crowded halls between the rest of his classes with his head down and his hair covering his eyes, not talking to anyone, trying not to look at anyone, hoping to remain unnoticed. He sat quietly in the back of each class; he spent the lunch hour in the library, finishing his homework.

The bell rang. Sean hurried from the library to his physics class. He found an empty chair near the back and sat down.

"Good afternoon," Ms. Murray said.

Sean jumped. He looked up quickly. The physics teacher was smiling at him and at a couple of outsiders sitting nearby. The outsiders returned her greeting.

"Hi," Sean said quietly. He tried to smile, and quickly ducked his head. He reached inside his backpack and pulled out his notebook and a pencil.

Suzan walked in a few minutes after class started. She nodded at him, found an empty chair at the next table, and took out her notebook and pencil and a Tupperware of cookies. She offered the cookies to him.

He shook his head. "No, thank you."

She shrugged and started eating.

Ms. Murray was talking enthusiastically about pendulums, and Galileo Galilei, and how the period of a pendulum's swing is not affected by the pendulum's mass – only by its length, gravity, and, to a lesser extent, the farthest angle it swings from the vertical.

Any object can be used as a pendulum, he knew. Clear quartz, peridot … a body – wearing brown leather shoes, dark brown slacks, blue sweater – curly brown hair, cyanotic face, blank, wide-eyed stare …

Sean froze. He couldn't move; he couldn't look away. He noticed vaguely that his heart was pounding; his breathing was too shallow, too fast. His vision was blurring. But all he could focus on was the body … swinging steadily from the partially frayed rope in front of him, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth –

"Sean!"

Sean started. A figure loomed over him. He hadn't noticed anyone approach. What if it was … but it couldn't be – he was … gone … it couldn't be him …

_Breathe_, he told himself. _Calm down. Get a grip. _

The figure stepped closer, and he cringed.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Suzan. It was only Suzan. Not Black John.

"Sean? What's the matter? You …"

"I'm fine. I'm just fine! So why can't everybody just leave me alone?" His voice rose to a yell. He felt eyes watching him. He looked around wildly.

Everybody was staring at him – even the teacher.

He jumped up and ran.

Someone called his name.

He kept going.

The door slammed behind him. He ran through the halls and out the back door to the granite outcrop past the cedar grove behind the old science building. He ducked into the little cave and sat there, leaning against the rock. He closed his eyes and put his hands flat on the Earth, reaching desperately for its steady, immovable energy.

But the Earth wasn't immovable.

An enormous granite boulder, perched precariously on the cliff above Devil's Cove for centuries – maybe even millennia – shifted as the crowbar in his hand pried loose some of the rocks and soil beneath it. It started to rock back and forth.

_Push it down_.

He did. The rock fell, pushing smaller rocks and dirt with it.

A scream broke the silence. Sean looked down. Mr. Fogle was sitting below the cliff, watching, immobile, as the boulder fell toward him, faster and faster and faster – the boulder landed. A spattering of rock and dirt followed. When the Earth settled, only a hand was visible beneath the boulder and the rock and soil that had accompanied it in its fall.

Sean stood there, unmoving, staring at that hand.

* * *

"Sean?"

He startled. He hadn't heard anyone approach, but Suzan was standing just below the rock, peering into the darkness of the cave.

"Are you all right?"

He shrugged and looked away. "I guess."

"You left your backpack and coat and stuff." Suzan walked around the rock and climbed across to the cave. She put the backpack down and handed him his coat.

He put it on. He hadn't noticed how cold it was inside the little cave. He hadn't even noticed that he was shivering. "Thanks."

"No problem." She sat beside him and opened her backpack. "I've still got some cookies left. They're gingersnaps – Laurel made them. You want some?"

He shook his head.

"They're pretty good. You know, for health stuff."

He shrugged. "Laurel's a good cook."

Suzan finished the cookies and zipped the Tupperware in her backpack.

"Are you ready to go home?"

He blinked. "What?"

"Seventh period ended half an hour ago." She looked at him sideways. "You, uh, you seemed to want to be alone, so I stuck around for the rest of class. But I had to give you your stuff. It took me a while to find you. You weren't in your algebra class or in the library. Laurel told me I should look here."

Sean looked away, staring at a patch of lichen growing in an indentation in the granite.

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "It's not your fault. You made it pretty clear that you didn't want me to find you."

He felt himself flush. "I'm sorry. I … I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"Don't worry about it. But are you ready now, or what? It's freezing out here."

He nodded. "Yeah." He scooted out of the cave and put his backpack on. He stopped and glanced at her sideways. "Uh, Suzan, didn't you ride with Faye today? She isn't still here, is she?"

"No. I told her Chris is giving us a ride home later. Which he is."

"Oh."

She looked at him. "I didn't tell them why. And they didn't ask."

He looked down at the rock. "Thanks," he said quietly.

"No problem." She climbed off the rock and led the way back toward the school.

* * *

A group of outsiders was standing near the front door of the old science building, talking. Their conversation ceased when Sean and Suzan came closer. Sean could see cold fury in their eyes as they looked at him and Suzan.

Sean cringed. His entire body was screaming at him to run away. He shook his head in disgust. _You're being paranoid. They're only students. Just like you. Get a grip._

He kept walking, just behind Suzan, not looking at the outsiders.

And somebody jumped out at him from the shadow of the school building.

Sean jumped back. A tall boy wearing a winter coat and a baseball cap followed him. Footsteps were approaching from behind – the outsiders who'd been standing next to the old science building. Sean whirled around. He and Suzan were surrounded.

"We told you you're not welcome here anymore," one of them said. His voice was low and menacing. "You should have listened to us."

"Suzan, run," Sean muttered under his breath, trying not to move his lips as he spoke.

She hesitated, glancing at him uncertainly and turning to watch the outsiders.

"Go. Get out –"

The tall one threw a backfist at Sean. Sean ducked. He glanced at Suzan – she was running, past the outsiders, toward the main building of the school, glancing behind her as she ran.

Two of the outsiders were running after her.

Another fist came at Sean, and he jumped aside. He whirled around and darted forward, racing toward the two who were chasing Suzan. He caught up quickly and dashed between them. He turned and sprinted away from the main building, toward the parking lot. Heavy footsteps followed him.

He slowed and glanced over his shoulder. He didn't see Suzan anymore. The two who had been chasing her were following him now. So were five or six others. The tall boy wearing the baseball cap was gaining on him.

Sean ran faster.

The footsteps were falling behind. He was almost to the parking lot. He might be able to lose them there. Or among the red cedars behind the parking lot.

A figure stepped out from behind a big SUV – a big guy, tall and heavy. Another boy and a brown-haired girl who looked vaguely familiar stepped out from the other side. All three of them looked at Sean, and at the outsiders running behind him.

"He's one of _them_," the girl said, looking at Sean with an expression of pure loathing. The big guy who'd stepped out from the driver's side of the SUV lunged at Sean.

Sean turned and ran downhill, skirting the parking lot and racing toward the grove of red cedar on its far side. His breath was coming harder now. The outsiders from the parking lot weren't far behind. None of them seemed particularly fast, but they were fresh. And he wasn't.

He kept going, running as fast as he could, but they were gaining on him. He passed the parking lot and reached the cedars. Footsteps were just behind him now, but he couldn't run any faster. His pace was already faltering.

A hand reached out to grab him by the shoulder. Sean dodged and spun around, darting the other way, toward the old science building. The other boy's momentum carried him past.

Sean passed the old science building. His lungs were burning. He couldn't run much farther. Footsteps pounded the concrete behind him. Desperation gave him a last burst of speed. But the tall outsider was faster. He reached out and grabbed Sean by the arm, and pulled him to a stop.

A fist swung at him from nowhere. Sean ducked. He dodged the next punch, ducked under a backfist, and blocked another punch with his arm. And then a heavy fist slammed into his chest. He doubled over, gasping. Momentarily blinded by pain, he didn't see the next punch coming straight at his face. He felt a crushing pain as a fist hit his eye. He staggered and would have fallen were it not for the arm that grabbed him from behind, holding him upright as it tightened around his throat.

Sean struggled, desperately trying to get away, but the arm, taut as steel wire, only pulled tighter. A thick haze seemed to pass in front of his eyes.

He felt his body go limp.

He thought he heard a dog's growl.

The arm released him. A hand shoved him hard from behind.

He fell. There was a sharp pain as his head hit the concrete. He lay there, gasping for breath. His head was pounding. He could still hear a dog growling.

He looked up. Through the haze, he thought he saw Raj standing in front of him, his hackles raised. The dog was snarling at several rapidly retreating figures.

"Thank you," Sean whispered. And the darkness took him.

* * *

Sean opened his eyes – or tried to. His right eye wouldn't open. He was lying on concrete, shivering despite the coat he was wearing and the warmth of the dog lying beside him. He tried to push himself up. The world spun rapidly around him. He lay back down and closed his good eye.

He waited for a few minutes and opened his eye again. The world was still spinning, but he lifted his head and looked around. He was lying near an old, derelict brick building. After a moment, he recognized the old science building. He sat, unsteadily, for a moment before standing. He staggered toward the building. Raj walked beside him.

He had to get out of there. To get home. He could ride home. But he needed his bike. He was still wearing his backpack – he had his key.

But everything was still moving around him, and his vision was blurring. He sank down to the sidewalk, gasping for breath, and closed his eye. If he could just rest for a minute or two …

* * *

He hurt. His entire body was screaming in pain, and he couldn't catch his breath. Distantly, through the ringing in his ears, he heard someone calling his name. Sean opened his eye and blearily looked around. A tall blond boy with long, disheveled hair was standing in front of him, saying something. Another boy was standing beside him – or was there only one? Sean blinked and looked again. No, there were definitely two of them; their coats were different colors.

One of the boys asked him something.

Sean looked at him uncertainly. He didn't say anything. But the ringing in his ears was getting quieter.

"We'd better call an ambulance or something," one of the boys said.

"Give him a minute, Chris," the other said. "Wait 'til Raj gets back." He turned to Sean. "Sean, I need you to tell me if you can understand me."

He didn't answer. But the fog was starting to clear from his mind. And he recognized Chris and Doug Henderson.

"Okay. Um, blink if you can understand me."

Sean blinked.

"Good. Okay, can you tell me your name?"

"Yeah. Sean." His voice was barely more than a whisper. He felt as if he were talking through razor blades in his throat.

"Do you remember what happened?" Chris asked.

Sean hesitated. He shrugged. "I … guess I … fell … down."

Doug snorted. "With some help, I bet. Come on. Let's get you home."

Home! That's what he'd been doing, before – he was going to get his bike, to ride home. He needed his bike. He couldn't ride home without his bike. He shook his head – bad idea. He swallowed hard and closed his eye, breathing as deeply as he could. "No. I … I need … my bike," he said.

Doug shrugged. "That's fine. We'll bring it. Are you ready to sit up?"

Sean nodded carefully. Doug helped him up. Sean closed his eye and waited for the world to stop spinning. The twins carried him past the old science building and into the parking lot.

And then footsteps came, running toward them.

"Are you okay? _Sean_! I'm so sorry!" Suzan's voice. She sounded upset. "I couldn't find anybody inside … anybody who would help … and I had to go all the way to the shop to find Nick … and then I couldn't find _you _…"

"It's … okay," Sean interrupted. "It's not … your fault." He kept his eye closed.

"Who was it?" Nick's voice asked gruffly. "Sean – answer me! Who attacked you?"

"I … I don't … know."

Nick was silent.

Sean opened his eye cautiously. The dizziness had faded, a little. Nick, and Doug, Chris, and Suzan, were looking around cautiously as they walked through the parking lot. Raj was walking calmly beside Chris, his tail waving gently. Sean didn't see anyone else around.

They passed a couple of pickup trucks and a Volkswagen bug. The twins' Suzuki was parked nearby, next to the Armstrongs' old station wagon. Chris and Doug carried him toward the Suzuki.

Sean struggled to get away. "No! Let go … of me! I … need my … bike! Let me … go!" He wasn't sure what he was saying.

"Okay. Okay. Calm down." Nick's voice. "We'll get your bike. We need to pass the bike racks to get to the road. Just settle down."

Sean stopped fighting and let the twins carry him to the Suzuki. Nick opened the back door. Raj jumped in and sat in the middle of the seat. Chris and Doug helped Sean in and took his backpack off. Chris took the keys out of the front pouch.

"Put your seat belt on," Nick said. He shut the door and climbed in on the other side, slamming the door behind him.

Sean flinched at the sound and at the sudden sharp pain in his already throbbing head, but he obeyed.

Doug drove – too fast, as always. He stopped the car outside the bike racks and jumped out. He and Chris unlocked the Bianchi and strapped it to the back of the car. They climbed back in.

Doug gunned the engine as soon as they reached the road. The tires squealed at every turn. Gravel crunched under the tires as Doug pulled in to Melanie's drive.

Somebody carried Sean inside, to the couch in the den.

People were there. He vaguely noticed that they were talking, asking him questions. He didn't answer.

Laurel hurried out of the kitchen, carrying a cup of ice and towels. She wrapped a few pieces of the ice into a towel and tried to hand it to him.

He stared at it blankly.

"Here, Sean, it's ice. For your eye."

He didn't move, and Laurel sat beside him and pressed the towel to his eye. It stung, but after a while, the pain lessened.

"Thanks," Sean muttered after a few minutes, wincing at the ragged sound of his voice as much as at the throbbing pain in his throat. He reached to take the ice from Laurel, keeping it on his eye.

"You're welcome." Laurel wrapped more ice in another towel and handed it to him. He took it and held it to his forehead.

He tried to remember what had happened. His head felt fuzzy, but he vaguely remembered a group of outsiders standing outside the old science building; someone jumping out at him and Suzan from the shadows. A race to get away. Somebody attacking him. And Raj coming to his rescue.

He looked up. Chris was sitting next to him, saying something to Diana. Suzan, Cassie, Melanie, Doug, and Adam were there, too, crowded into Melanie's den. Raj was lying beside Adam.

"We need to have a meeting with the full Circle," Diana was saying. Her voice was decisive. "Melanie, would you call the others, please?"

Melanie nodded and walked to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, the front door slammed. Deborah strode through the kitchen. She stopped in the doorway when she saw Sean. Her eyes blazed in fury; her hands clenched into fists. "Let's get them!" Deborah demanded, glaring fiercely at the others. "What are you guys waiting for? Come on, let's go!"

"Go get whom?" Melanie asked coolly.

Deborah turned her predatory gaze to Melanie. "Whoever attacked Sean! Who do you think?"

"We don't know who it was. _Sean_ doesn't know who it was."

Deborah looked at Sean.

He looked away.

"There was a group of outsiders standing outside the old science building," Suzan said. Her voice sounded shaky. "One of them told us we aren't welcome there and we should have listened to them. I didn't recognize all of them. I don't know if any of the witch hunters were there. And I don't know who hurt Sean. He told me to run. And I … I did."

"That's exactly what you should have done," Adam told her. "Get away, and find help."

"It was the witch hunters – it had to have been," Deborah said. "Logan and Jurgen, or whatever their names are."

"No." Cassie's voice was certain. "It wasn't them. They wouldn't have attacked Sean and then left him alive. And they wouldn't have beaten him. They tried to _burn_ me – they would have burned me if you guys hadn't rescued me. _That's_ what they would have done to Sean, if it had been them."

"Or they would have shot him," Adam said. "They came after me with a gun, before."

"That's true," Cassie said.

"It _could_ have been them," Chris argued. "The witch hunters. Raj could have scared them away. He was there with Sean when we found him."

Raj looked up at Chris and thumped his tail against the wood floor.

"It was _outsiders_." Doug's voice was as hard as granite. "And this is war."

"No! We can't fight a war against all of the outsiders!" Laurel said, carrying a steaming cup from the kitchen. She set it down on a coaster to cool. "We need them to stay here in New Salem – there aren't enough of _us_ for a whole town. We need to make peace with them."

"We can't make peace with them!" Deborah yelled at Laurel. "They tried to kill Sean!"

"And Cassie," Nick said.

"We need to work with the outsiders – the ones who will listen to us. Laurel's right; we need to make peace with them. Or at least work out some sort of a cease-fire that all of the outsiders in New Salem will honor," Adam said.

The argument went on and on.

Sean tried to focus, but his attention kept drifting. His head was throbbing. So was his eye. It hurt to breathe, and he still couldn't catch his breath. His vision was blurring; fading into a whirling grey fog … and clearing, and blurring again.

Someone was calling him. He blinked, and his vision cleared – a little. Laurel was sitting beside him, holding a cup. She held it so he could drink the hot, bitter liquid inside.

The pain lessened … and the grey fog surrounding him faded into darkness.

* * *

He was lying in bed – in Miss Burke's guest room, he decided, looking around the neat, old-fashioned room with his good eye. His right eye wouldn't open. He sat up, and stood; his vision blurred. He leaned against the dresser and waited until he caught his breath and could see again. He staggered down the hall.

Sean pushed his hair out of his face and grimaced at his reflection in the mirror. His right eye was black and purple and blue, and swollen shut. His chest was badly bruised, too. Blood had seeped through a bandage on his head. His hair was matted with dried blood. And the room seemed to be revolving around him.

He made his way back to the guest room and sank down on the bed. He closed his eye and grinned wryly. His physics final was today. If today was Thursday. On Friday he had a final in French. And for once he had a legitimate reason to miss his classes.

* * *

"I guess everybody was too busy with finals – or maybe with plans for the Yule Ball and Winter break – to bother us yesterday," Laurel was saying as she wrapped a clean bandage around Sean's head. "And everybody – even Nick and Deborah and Doug and Chris – stayed out of trouble. Of course, nobody went anywhere outside alone. We're all being careful."

Sean nodded. He put the Thermos down, took the poultice she handed him, and held it against his eye. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He could feel her eyes on him. He looked up.

She _was_ watching him, and she looked upset.

"I'll be fine, Laurel," he said, trying not to let his irritation show; he could tell from her expression that he'd failed. It wasn't Laurel's fault he was hurt; it wasn't her fault he didn't deal well with being helpless. She was just trying to help – and he knew that, with her help, he'd heal a lot faster than he would without it. "I'm sorry," he said contritely. "I didn't mean to snap at you. But I will be fine. And Miss Burke will be here all day."

Laurel nodded. "I know. Are you sure you don't want to come tonight? You really should – it's the Yule Ball! And it's the last dance of the year! Diana's driving Melanie and me – she'll drive you too. You don't have to dance or anything. You can just hang out with us."

Sean shook his head. He managed to smile at Laurel. He knew the Yule Ball wasn't really what was bothering her; she was worried about him, and she felt guilty about leaving him alone. "No. I don't want to go. But you should go. To school, I mean. Or you'll be late."

Laurel nodded. "I know. And I'll go in a minute. But you are coming to the Yule party, right?"

_Party? What party?_ "Uh, yeah. I … I … yeah."

She stared at him.

Sean felt himself flush.

"The _Yule_ party! We're all meeting at the Hendersons' on Monday – right before sunset."

Sean nodded. "Oh. Okay. Yeah, I'll be there."

"You'd better!" Laurel said. She walked to the door and turned back to him. "Are you _sure_ …

"Laurel, I'll be okay. And I promise I'll drink the tea. Go on – and have fun tonight at the dance."

She relaxed, and grinned at him over her shoulder as she hurried out. "I will! See you."

Sean waited until he could no longer hear her footsteps, and then stood up. He still hurt – a lot – and he still couldn't open his right eye – but he could breathe well enough now, and he wasn't dizzy or light-headed anymore. And he was bored. He needed something to think about besides how badly his body hurt, but he hadn't been able to concentrate on the novel he was reading, let alone finish his homework, and he hadn't even had a guitar to play.

He'd go home and get his guitar, he decided. He picked up his backpack from the dresser and took out his keys. He walked, slowly, through the hall, through the empty kitchen, to the front door.

"Where, may I ask, are you going, young man?"

He startled. He hadn't noticed Miss Burke sitting in the parlor. Now she was striding toward him, her face grim.

He dropped his hand away from the doorknob. The key clattered on the wood floor. "I-I-I … I … I'm sorry. I, uh … I …"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, child, I won't bite." Her expression softened, slightly. "Nor will I have you traipsing around outside by yourself – not with a concussion. Why don't you go join Mrs. Quincey in the parlor?"

Sean sighed. "Yes, ma'am," he said. He picked up the key he had dropped and walked into the parlor.

"Why, good morning, dear," Granny Quincey said, smiling at him. She was sitting on a straight-backed wooden chair near the crackling fire, her crochet hook moving rapidly through the lavender yarn as she worked.

"Good morning, Mrs. Quincey." Sean sat on a chair on the other side of the fireplace.

"You're looking better today."

He nodded.

"Would you care to join me in a game of cards? Canasta, perhaps?"

Sean looked up. She was smiling at him. He returned her smile. "Sure," he said.

"Splendid." Granny Quincey put the sweater she was crocheting down in the basket beside her and took two decks of cards, a notepad, and a pencil from the cabinet near the window.

Sean followed her to the table near the windows.

"Why don't you have a seat, dear?" she asked. "I'll go get us some tea."

"I'll help –"

"No, no, dear, you just sit yourself down. I won't be but a few minutes."

He sat.

"Constance?" Granny Quincey called, as she walked toward the kitchen.

"Yes?" Miss Burke asked, stepping out of the kitchen and stopping in the doorway, a towel and a plate in her hands.

"I was just going to get us all some tea, if you don't mind. Would you care to join us? We're playing Canasta." Granny Quincey asked.

Miss Burke raised her eyebrows and looked at Granny Quincey. "I'll get the tea. But there's work to be done, Iris," she said sternly. "I haven't the time to be sitting around playing cards."

"The work will keep. It's not every day we have a young one to keep us company."

"Oh, very well." Miss Burke actually smiled, slightly. She stepped back into the kitchen. She returned a few minutes later, carrying a steaming teapot, tea cups, a sliced loaf of pumpkin bread, and a bowl of Grimes Golden and snow apples on a blue willowware platter.

"Thank you, Constance," Granny Quincey said as Miss Burke poured the tea and handed a cup to her and one to Sean.

"Thank you," Sean said.

"You're quite welcome."

Sean looked at Granny Quincey. "I'm sorry. I … I guess I haven't been very good about visiting lately. I should –"

"No, no, dear. You're always welcome, of course, but I understand that you young ones have plenty to do to keep yourselves busy – including, of course, schoolwork."

"I … I don't have that much homework. I can finish it tomorrow … or Sunday …"

She smiled at him. "That will be quite soon enough, I'm sure. In the meantime …" she stopped, and shuffled the cards together. "Constance, it's your deal."

Miss Burke took the cards in her calloused hands and shuffled them carefully. She cut the deck and dealt.

* * *

That night, he dreamt he was inside the house at Number Thirteen Crowhaven Road again, standing behind the other Circle members as they faced Black John.

"Think with me. Give me your power!" Cassie said. A presence, thrumming with power, swept through his mind, nearly overwhelming him with the essence of moon and sun and stars and all of the elements of Nature as it rushed through, taking his power with it.

The crystal skull exploded. Black John and the old house disappeared.

Sean found himself sitting on the wooden floor of Adam's living room, inside a ring of quartz crystals. The Circle surrounded him.

"Traitor," Melanie said contemptuously.

"Murderer," Doug yelled.

Chris stared at him sorrowfully. "You were, like, our brother. But you killed our sister."

"Why did you hurt me?" Kori asked from where she lay at the bottom of the hill.

Jeffrey frowned at him. "I never did anything to _you_," he said angrily.

"You were bad, Sean," Mr. Dulany said. His eyes were bloodshot, and the odor of beer and whiskey filled the air. "I don't know how many times I've told you to behave, but you just don't listen to me."

"You must be stopped," Adam said.

The entire Circle moved toward him, staring at him with menacingly with their glowing eyes. Sean could feel their anger and power building up, just as it had before, when the Circle faced Black John.

And then Cassie spoke. "Power of moon have I over thee," she said.

"Nooo!" Sean yelled. He opened his eyes and stared wildly around the room.

He was alone. Black John was nowhere to be seen. Of course. It was a dream; just a dream.

But he wasn't sure he believed that, not anymore. His dreams seemed too real, too vivid. More like memories than dreams.

He needed to know the truth.

* * *

Miss Burke drove Sean home after breakfast.

Sean thanked her and walked upstairs to his room. He closed the door and took his Tarot deck from its hiding place beneath the notebooks in the bottom desk drawer, glancing nervously at the door. His father would be upset if he found out that Sean _owned_ a Tarot deck, let alone used it. But his father wouldn't come in Sean's room, not with the door shut. Sean spread a cloth on the floor and took the cards out of their box. He sat for a moment, trying to formulate a question. Finally he shrugged.

"I just need to know the truth about what happened to Kori and the others," he said quietly.

He shuffled the cards, and laid ten of them out.

He turned the first card over. It was the Five of Cups: sorrow, disillusionment, loss. Lack of trust. Worry. The figure on the card was standing with its head bowed, its face mostly hidden by the hood of its robe, gazing down at two fallen cups out of which red liquid had spilled. Two other cups stood nearby.

Sean turned to the second card – the Eight of Swords: fear, blame, being trapped. Bondage. _Prison_. Sean's hand trembled as he laid the card down, face-up on the cloth. He looked at the blindfolded woman shown on the card, dressed in a tattered gown, standing barefoot on a sandy beach. Her arms were tied to her sides, and she was surrounded on three sides by swords standing upright in the sand.

A cold chill swept over him when he turned over the foundation card. There was a body on the card, impaled by swords, lying in a pool of blood. The Ten of Swords: the card of death, failure, and recurring problems; history repeating itself.

Sean hesitated for a long moment before turning over the next card. It was the Tower; the card of change, destruction, loss – and disgrace.

_No. _

He turned over the possible outcomes card, revealing the Four of Swords. He gazed at the woman, as white as marble, lying upon a stone, with swords suspended above her. The figure glimmered and changed. It was no longer an unknown woman lying there; it was Kori. And she was lying, nearly hidden by shrubs, at the bottom of the hill in front of the school.

_No_! Sean closed his eyes, but he could still see her lying there. He jumped up and ran to the window. He doubled over in pain and sank to the floor, gasping for breath. _Brilliant. Just brilliant. _He'd forgotten that his bruised ribs wouldn't let him move quickly, or take in a full breath.

A knock sounded. Sean startled, staring wildly at the door.

Another knock. "Sean?"

It was his father's voice.

"Yeah?" His voice was barely audible, but he could hear the tremor in it.

"Sean! Are you all right?"

_No. _"Yeah," he called, as loudly as possible, hoping desperately that his father would believe him. The last thing he needed now was to have to try to explain the Tarot cards to his father.

"Okay. Lunch is ready." Mr. Dulany didn't wait for an answer. His footsteps receded down the hall, down the stairs.

Sean closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slowly and steadily. After a long moment, he stood, carefully, and returned to the cards. He didn't turn over the remaining cards in the spread. Not looking at the pictures, he gathered all of the cards together and shuffled them back into the deck. He returned the deck to its wooden box and held it, staring at the grain of the cherry-wood, at the Celtic knot engraved on its surface.

He knew, when he thought about it, that the cards hadn't really answered his questions. He was in no shape to get a clear reading. His own guilty conscience was making him see things that weren't written in the cards at all. He knew that the Four of Swords wasn't warning him of another death in the future; it represented rest, relaxation, and healing – not death. The Tower could be a reference to the losses they'd all experienced – the deaths of Mrs. Howard and Kori – and to the disgrace he was in because of what the Circle believed, regardless of whether or not they were right. And the Ten of Swords could refer to defeat, exhaustion, and feeling overwhelmed – it wasn't necessarily telling him that he had killed and might kill again; nor was the Eight of Swords telling him that he would literally go to prison. His own fears and guilt were prison enough.

"Sean!" his father was calling him again, from downstairs.

Sean sighed. He put the box and the cloth away and walked slowly downstairs to the kitchen.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Secret Circle: **

**Out of the Darkness**

The Secret Circle and its characters aren't mine – they belong to L. J. Smith and HarperCollins Publishers.

**Chapter Six**

It was Monday night. Wreaths of holly and cedar hung from the ancient beams of the Hendersons' kitchen. Another wreath bedecked the door. A fire crackled in the fireplace. The table was covered with food – baskets of red, gold, and green apples; pears; pumpkin pie and apple pie; green salad, five-bean salad, and potato salad; sweet potatoes; carrots and parsnips; mashed potatoes; pumpkin bread and banana bread; and veggies and dips. There was scarcely enough room for the plates and cups and silverware.

The Circle members were gathered around the table. Sean sat in front of the window, listening to the others talk and laugh while they ate. They talked about the Solstice, projects and activities they planned for Winter Break, the finals they'd finished, the classes they'd be taking next semester – and about Kori. About camping trips and bike rides she'd gone on with her brothers and with other members of the Circle, too. About the dance recitals she had loved and her brothers had hated – but had always pretended to enjoy. About some of the many times she had kept Doug and Chris out of trouble, at school and at home. About the holidays she had celebrated with them and with the Circle.

Kori would have loved it all – the festive clothes most of the Circle members were wearing, the holiday meal, the conversation – and she would have _liked_ being the center of attention. But she wasn't there. And it was his fault.

He glanced across the table at Chris and Doug and started. Kori _was _there, standing between Chris and Doug, smiling at them. She looked around the table, at all of the members of the Circle seated there. She met Sean's eyes, and her smile faded. An expression of confusion crossed her face.

"Why? Why did you hurt me, Sean?" she asked.

Sean closed his eyes. _She's not real. _He opened his eyes again. She was still there, but her eyes no longer saw him. She was lying at the bottom of the hill. She wasn't moving.

He shuddered and closed his eyes again. He bit his lip until he tasted blood, hoping the pain would jar him back to reality. It did; when he opened his eyes again, Kori was gone.

Sean wiped the sweat from his forehead and tried to steady his rapid breathing. He forced himself to stay in the room, to listen to the others' stories. It was the least he could do for Kori. But he couldn't join in the festivities. All he could think about, with every story someone told, was that this was something she could never do again. There were so many things – and so many things she would never be able to do at all. She hadn't even been initiated into the Circle – and she had been so excited that she was finally turning fifteen, old enough for initiation.

At last, the others finished their meal and left the kitchen, walking outside to the beach. Sean stayed behind with Laurel, Diana and Melanie to wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen. He listened to their conversation, relieved that they were talking about the Solstice – and not about Kori. The faucet was leaking; he could hear it drip. A slow, steady drip … drip … drip … just like the drip he'd heard before, at school – the sound of water leaking from a pipe somewhere ahead …

Sean's quick, light footsteps and the slower, heavier tread of the bigger boy in front of him echoed on the steps of the cold, dimly lit staircase. Machinery hummed from somewhere nearby.

They walked into the boiler room. It was as dark as the staircase, and oddly cold. The towering boiler and the furnace against the opposite wall were silent. The air was musty; it smelled of gas and machine oil and stale alcohol.

Sean didn't see Cassie. But she was down here somewhere – wasn't she?

_Sean, look behind the furnace. _

He flinched. The voice – the presence – was in his head, painfully loud, yet soundless. It was pressing in on him like a thick, suffocating fog; he couldn't think …

_Now_!

Sean looked around the machine that loomed before him, into the next room. No one was there. A rope was lying on the concrete floor.

The fog was getting thicker.

The footsteps had stopped.

"I don't think Cassie's here," Jeffrey said, turning to look at Sean.

He shrugged. "She'll be here. She's coming with the Hendersons and Deborah. That's what Suzan said." His voice sounded odd. Distant, and emotionless.

His head felt fuzzy and his legs were trembling. He sat, beside the furnace, leaning against the cinderblock wall.

Jeffrey shrugged. "Okay. I'll wait." His expression was curiously blank. He sat beside Sean.

_Get up – fetch the rope and put it around his neck. _

_What_?! Why on Earth –

The pressure in his head intensified.

_Go and get the rope, and put it around his neck. Now!_

Sean tried to yell at Jeffrey, to tell him to run, but he couldn't make a sound. He couldn't move – but he found himself jumping up and darting behind the looming furnace. He grabbed the rope and returned to the other room, where Jeffrey was still sitting next to the wall, staring blankly ahead. Sean tried to back away, but he could only watch in horror as his arms stretched up and reached out, dropped the noose tied at one end of the rope over Jeffrey's head, pulled the rope taut, and dragged him past the furnace.

Sean stared, horrified, as the older boy tried – and failed – to escape from the rope – and to draw a breath. _Let go! Loosen the rope! Call 9-1-1!_

_No. Throw the rope over the pipe. Pull him up._

He wrenched his gaze away from Jeffrey's terrified eyes – but he couldn't close his ears to the terrible sounds of Jeffrey's struggle to escape from the rope – and to breathe. His own breathing was too fast, too shallow. His body was trembling – but his hand was steady as it threw the free end of the rope over the pipe, tied a knot he didn't recognize, and pulled.

Jeffrey had stopped struggling. He hung limply as his body rose above Sean, swinging back and forth.

Sean watched his hands tie another unfamiliar knot in the rope and pull it taut. He looked back at Jeffrey. The older boy wasn't struggling any more. He wasn't breathing. The wide-open eyes in the cyanotic face had ceased to see. And the body swung, steadily, back and forth, back and forth.

Sweat broke out on Sean's face and arms, despite the coldness of the room. His ears started to ring. Grayness overshadowed his vision.

A sharp clatter rang out.

"Sean? Are you okay?" Diana's voice.

_I should say something_, he thought vaguely.

"No, he's not." Laurel's voice. "Sean, lie down for a minute."

"I … I'm okay. I'm sorry. I'm okay." His own voice sounded as far away as theirs.

Laurel sighed. Her hands and voice were gentle but firm as she helped him lie on the cold stone floor.

The ringing in his ears grew fainter, and stopped.

"Sean, you're safe now. Nobody's going to hurt you," Laurel was saying. She kept talking, soothingly.

He wasn't listening.

They'd been right – Nick and Adam and the others. The night of the storm, when they'd told him that _he _had killed Jeffrey and the others – they'd been right. He really had killed Jeffrey. His dreams … the images … no. Not images – _memories_. They really were memories. They wouldn't have been so vivid if he hadn't really been there. If he hadn't done it. Killed – _hanged_ – somebody. Somebody who'd never done anything to him. He didn't think Jeffrey had ever even spoken to him.

The Circle was right.

And if they were right about Jeffrey's death, they must be right about the others, too. He _had_ killed Kori. And Mr. Fogle. And caused Mrs. Howard's death, too.

He was a murderer. A killer. A _serial_ killer.

"Sean! Come on, answer me! _Sean_!" Laurel's voice.

He blinked and looked around.

"Sean? Can you hear me?"

Melanie's voice. She was sitting in front of him. Laurel was next to her. And Diana. The girls were staring at him.

He tore his eyes away and sat up. The shattered remains of a plate lay beside him. He started to pick up the pieces.

"I'll do it," Laurel said, reaching to take the sharp pieces away from him.

"No. That's okay. I've got it. I … I'm okay." He was rambling.

Laurel just looked at him.

Sean let her take the pieces he was holding.

Diana swept up the rest into a dustpan and threw them away.

She turned back to Sean and waited. So did Laurel. And so did Melanie.

"You guys, everybody's waiting outside," Doug said.

Sean started. Even the girls looked startled as they turned toward the doorway.

"Are you coming?" Doug asked impatiently.

"Yes," Melanie said. "We're on our way."

Sean couldn't read Melanie's expression, but he accepted her proffered hand and stood, trying to ignore Laurel's and Diana's worried looks. He followed the girls to the coat rack by the door, grabbed his coat and hat, and followed them outside.

* * *

It was dark. Only starlight lit their way. They walked slowly, cautiously, through the Hendersons' unkempt yard and through the gate. They followed the sloping path toward the beach.

A bonfire roared near the unlit Yule log that someone had decorated with pine cones, wheat, ears of corn, and sprigs of holly and cedar. The other Circle members were waiting nearby, seated near the fire or standing nearby. Raj was sitting beside Cassie, who was laughing at something Adam was saying. The dog stood and trotted up to Sean, greeting him, and then Diana and Laurel and Melanie, his tail waving happily.

Faye cast the circle as soon as everyone was seated around the bonfire. She drew the circle's outline deosil in the sand with her black-handled knife. She called the directions, holding up the knife, for Earth; and then incense; a bayberry candle, its tiny flame flickering in the wind; and finally a stone chalice filled with water.

Then she sat, between Cassie and Diana, and stared into the fire. "Tonight is Yule – the longest night of the year," she intoned. "The darkness of night has been growing longer and longer and the light of day has been growing shorter. The land is frozen; the ponds and creeks are encased in ice. The plants have ceased their growth. All but a few of the trees and shrubs have lost their leaves. Most of the birds are gone – they've moved on to their warm winter homes in the South. The small mammals and insects, and the frogs and toads and turtles and snakes and lizards, seem to have disappeared with the cold. But we remain, here – in the cold of winter and in the darkness of night – on this, the longest night." She looked around the Circle and smiled. Her eyes gleamed eerily in the firelight.

Sean shivered despite the warmth of the bonfire. He pulled his coat tighter around him and drew his gloved hands inside the sleeves. Darkness – the dark energy. That's what Adam and the others had called the presence that had controlled his mind. The presence that had made him … _don't think about that_, he told himself fiercely. He stared into the fire, focusing on the flames, on the charred bits of wood, on the smoke rising from the fire and drifting southward with the wind.

"But the darkness will not remain forever," Diana was saying. "The sun will rise again; a new day will dawn. The days will grow longer, their light stronger – and the nights will grow shorter once again. The land will thaw and be warmed by the sun. The seeds will awaken from their sleep and new growth will begin. The insects and small mammals, and the frogs and toads and reptiles – all will awaken and come out from their winter homes as the days lengthen and the nights grow less cold. And we remain, here – in our Circle, on this shore, lit by bright firelight and by the distant light of the stars, on this the longest night – and we celebrate the coming light of day." Diana smiled, and a glow of warmth and peace and comfort seemed to encompass all of the members of the Circle.

And then it was Cassie's turn. The Circle's youngest member – and leader – stood and held a torch to the fire, waiting until it lit. She held it up so everyone in the Circle could see – and walked to the Yule log.

Silently, reverently, the Circle members watched as Cassie set the Yule log alight.

Sean stared at the tendrils of wispy smoke, at the tiny glow as the fire caught, at the blaze as it strengthened, at the colors – the red and yellow and orange and blue of the flames as the log and its decorations burned, casting their light on the shore and on the Circle seated there.

Faye and Diana formally closed the circle, allowing those who wished to leave to do so, but nobody did. Even Sean stayed, listening to the stories and jokes and laughter and songs of the others around him, as they celebrated through the longest night; as they watched a light appear in the sky – the tiny sliver of the crescent moon casting a white glow on the sea and shore – and as the dark sky lightened, streaked with pink and purple and orange, and the sun made its appearance – the dawn of a new day. Only then did the members of the Circle return home.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Secret Circle: **

**Out of the Darkness**

The Secret Circle and its characters aren't mine – they belong to L. J. Smith and HarperCollins Publishers.

**Chapter Seven **

It was the next afternoon. Sean was only half listening to the chatter of the others as the group – more than half of the Circle – rode down the hill past the school. The wind was strong today, whistling through the trees, pushing them gently on their way. Bicycle tires whispered against the pavement. The unmistakable click of a chain rubbing on a not-quite-adjusted cog as someone shifted gears and the quiet rub of an untrue wheel catching on a brake pad told him that at least a few of the bikes needed some attention.

They were riding slowly, easily, talking as they rode. Doug, Chris, and Deborah were arguing about the relative merits of a Fender Stratocaster and a Gibson Les Paul; Laurel was earnestly telling Cassie and Adam, Diana, and Melanie why the Club – or somebody – really should plant trees and low-growing groundcovers on the steep hill beside the school to replace the grass.

"We could plant apple trees, and pears, and cherries, and dogwoods and cedars for the birds – so we'd be growing food on the hill. Right now there's nothing there but grass. The maintenance crew mows it all summer long, every year – and do you know how much pollution a gasoline-powered lawn mower causes?"

But the grass hadn't been mowed in a while – not at the bottom of the hill. The grass was tall there, and goldenrod and wild asters were blooming among the grasses. Sumac and hazel and juniper grew there too – almost hiding the body lying there on the grass, at the bottom of the hill, its neck bent unnaturally, its sweater bright red – brighter than blood.

Sean blinked, trying to force the image from his mind.

He tried to focus on the narrow tires of Doug's Cannondale, rolling over the pavement just in front of him; the black sneakers pedaling around and around; Doug and Chris and Deborah, riding in front of him, still arguing about their favorite guitars as if nothing had happened – as if Black John had never come. As if Kori were still alive. As if he had never –

_No – don't think about that! _Sean looked away, at the trees – maple and sumac, hickory and cedar and oak; at the deep, brilliant turquoise of the ocean just past the bluffs – an enormous granite boulder teetering precariously above them – and then falling, falling, pushing smaller rocks along, landing with a horrible sound he'd never forget – and then a clatter as the other rocks and stones came to rest – a human hand peeking out from beneath –

He had to get away.

He jumped into a sprint, standing on the pedals as he passed Doug, and Deborah, and then Chris, and then sitting, crouching over the handlebars, hands in the drops, pedaling as hard and fast as he could. The Bianchi responded perfectly, springing forward each time he increased his cadence or shifted up to a higher gear.

But still he saw Kori's body lying, unmoving, far, far below. And Jeffrey's vacant eyes seemed to glare accusingly at him as his body swung above, back and forth, back and forth; the boulder teetered, passing its point of equilibrium and falling, pushing smaller boulders before it – falling toward the man standing far below, looking up, open-mouthed, unable to move during the eternity it took the boulder to land, crushing him below – only a hand visible from beneath the rubble.

Sean pedaled faster. He was already gasping for breath; his heart was pounding in his chest; his head and eye and chest were throbbing again – but he didn't slow.

"Hey, Sean!" Chris yelled. "Wait up!"

Sean kept going, over the rise near the elementary school, around the bend, and down the hill toward Main Street. There was traffic along the road now – the evening rush of people heading home from work or making their final deliveries. An eighteen-wheeler rounded the bend, several vehicles passing it as its heavy load slowed its ascent up the steadily increasing grade of the hill.

A broken body at the foot of the hill – his hand pushing her down – unable to stop it – his fingers tying the rope, looping it over Jeffrey's neck, tossing the other end over the pipe, pulling up, up – feet swinging – his hand pushing the boulder – the boulder falling, falling …

He heard the others calling him, distantly.

But the memories wouldn't stop. No matter where he went, no matter what he did, he couldn't get them out of his head. They were everywhere – at the hill in front of school, in his classes, in his sleep – and now even on his bike. But he _couldn't_ keep watching their deaths – their murders. He just couldn't cope with that. He had to make them stop. But he didn't know how.

The truck was gaining speed as the road leveled and began its descent. It was approaching the intersection – and so was he. He was going too fast to stop, even if he tried.

The truck would hit him.

Or he would hit it.

And then the memories would stop.

Sean shifted up to the bike's highest gear and pedaled as fast as he could.

"_Sean _–_ stop!"_ Cassie's yell echoed in his head.

"Noooo!" he yelled, but her mental command was as irresistible as Black John's had been. He grabbed the brakes hard and let go. The bike slowed – a little – as it reached the road. Sean pulled the handlebars hard to the left, and then the right, throwing the bike almost horizontal into the turn. An airhorn blasted at him from not more than three or four feet away as the big truck roared past. He jerked away – but he caught his balance and pulled the bike upright before the reaction set in.

His body started to shake. His heart was pounding. He could hear his own ragged breathing struggling too fast for air. _Calm_ _down, _he commanded himself, with no more success than he'd had before.

Momentum carried the bike along for another minute, maybe two, before the bike slowed to a stop. Sean pulled his feet out of the straps on the pedals and tried to dismount. Someone caught him before he could fall. Someone led him away from the road, helped him sit.

"Hey. You're all right. Just calm down." Deborah's voice.

"It's okay, Sean. You're okay now." That was Laurel.

Sean blinked and looked around. Deborah, Laurel, Adam, Cassie, Diana, Melanie, Chris, Doug … more than half the Circle stood around him. Surrounding him. All of their eyes were on him, watching him – and condemning him. Kori was there too; her puzzled eyes begged him to tell her why he'd betrayed her. Mr. Fogle stood beside her, his eyes wide with terror as a boulder teetered and fell, crushing him instantly. An accusatory hand reached out from below the pile of rocks, pointing toward Sean. Jeffrey stood beside the principal, his unseeing eyes somehow seeming to glare at Sean.

"I'm sorry, I'm _sorry,_" Sean yelled, his voice shrill and terrified. His breathing was still too fast, too shallow; his heart was pounding as if it were trying to escape the confines of his body.

He stared wildly around him, desperately searching for a way to escape the images – the memories – but he was surrounded. There was nowhere to go. And he couldn't move. He couldn't _breathe_.

And then he heard Diana's voice, clear and sweet, ring out. "Guardians of the East, Powers of the Earth, I call on thee," she said.

_It's a ceremony_, he thought irrelevantly. _I've got to be there._

He still couldn't move, or focus on what Diana were saying, but he caught words here and there; she was calling the directions, and casting the circle.

The Circle was calling on the Earth, asking for strength and endurance. Sean could feel its energy – the immensely patient, tolerant, enduring strength of granite or basalt – surrounding him. He closed his eyes and focused on the soil beneath the carpet of fallen leaves, on the rocks below. Distantly, he heard the Circle continue the ceremony.

Slowly, his terror dissipated. His shuddering ceased. His breathing steadied and slowed; his heart slowed. He opened his eyes. The Circle surrounded him protectively. Deborah was trying to scratch her arm beneath its cast. Raj stood just outside the circle, whining softly.

"Sean?" Diana asked after a moment. Her voice was gentle. "Are you okay?"

He shrugged.

"What's wrong?"

Sean shook his head. He didn't want to talk. He didn't think he could. He closed his eyes.

The wind whistled through the trees. Traffic roared by. Chickadees called to each other from the shrubs nearby. A rustling came from the pines as squirrels, blue jays, cardinals and juncos searched for food beneath the fallen needles.

No one spoke.

Sean could feel their eyes, watching him.

"I can't get them out of my head," he said, after a long silence, to no one in particular.

"Who?" Laurel asked.

"All of them."

There was silence.

Finally Deborah spoke up. "You mean Black John? And the night of the hurricane?"

He shrugged.

"Sean, you need to tell us," Laurel said gently. "We can't help you if we don't know what's bothering you."

Sean shook his head. "I can't," he whispered.

"You have to."

"No!"

"He means Kori," Chris said suddenly.

"What? I thought he couldn't remember …" Diana's voice trailed off.

"He does now," Adam said. "Now that Black John's gone. Don't you, Sean?"

Sean didn't answer.

"Don't you?" Adam was sitting directly in front of Sean, staring at him, his steel-grey eyes glowing, compelling … a pressure was creeping into his mind ... just like before …

Sean cringed. He closed his eyes – and the pressure in his mind was gone.

"Adam, leave him be," Diana was saying.

"Sean, you need to talk about what happened." Laurel's voice was gentle.

He shook his head. "No."

"You have to."

"No!"

"You need to talk about what happened, to _remember_ what happened …"

"I do remember what happened!" Sean yelled at Laurel. "Every time I pass the front of the school she's standing there at the top of the hill, and that voice – Black John's voice – is inside my head and it's telling me to … to … to push her – and I try to stop and I _can't_ stop and I push her and I can't even tell her to run away and she just looks at me – not like I betrayed her, but like what on Earth am I doing – and then the voice tells me to push her again and I do, and she falls, and I can't stop her, and she's lying there at the bottom of the hill and she's … she's … her neck's broken and she's dead. And … and … and Adam and Doug and Nick are dragging me inside and they're not letting me go and they're taking off my belt and my sweater and I can't get away and everyone's staring at me and they're saying that I … that I ... I killed her. And Jeffrey Lovejoy. And Mr. Fogle. And … and I'm in the boiler room and there's water dripping somewhere and I'm dropping a noose around Jeffrey Lovejoy's neck and I tighten the rope and drag him past the furnace and he can't breathe and he can't get the rope off and I throw it over the pipe and pull him up and he's … he's … he's cyanotic … and his eyes are staring at me but he doesn't see anything and he just swings, like a … a pendulum, back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. And there's a rock up high – a big boulder – it's teetering at the edge, and I … I make it fall and it takes a bunch of smaller rocks and dirt and stuff with it and it falls and Mr. Fogle – he's underneath and he's looking up and watching it fall but he's not moving and he's crushed under the rocks and his hand … his hand is … I can still see his hand. And it's blue too, just like Jeffrey's face, and … and …"

And the Circle was there, and they were surrounding him with the calm, peaceful energy of the Earth. Kori's and Mr. Fogle's and Jeffrey's bodies were gone, and it was just the Circle there with him. All of their eyes were on him, but no one – not even Adam or Melanie – was condemning him.

Their silence seemed to thicken, pressing in on him, drowning out the sounds of birds and squirrels and traffic and his own ragged breathing. Finally Sean spoke. "I-I-I … I should … I should – you know. Turn myself in. To the … to the police. You know, if I … if I …" he couldn't continue.

They looked at each other.

"Sean," Laurel said gently. "It wasn't you."

"But –"

"You didn't kill anyone. _Black John_ did. Yes, he used your body, but it wasn't _you_ who killed those people. _You_ would never kill anybody – you couldn't."

"But I did." His voice was just a whisper, and he couldn't meet anyone's eyes. "It was me. It was my fault."

"No. It wasn't. Besides, even if you tried to turn yourself in, nobody would believe you. Because there is no possible way that you could have killed those people."

Sean stared at Laurel, wanting desperately to believe her.

"Think about it, Sean," she said. "Jeffrey was twice your size! There's no way you could have hanged him from that pipe by yourself – even if you could've reached the pipe – which you couldn't."

"I didn't need to reach the pipe. I threw the rope over it," he muttered. Nobody seemed to hear him.

Diana was nodding. "And Kori was one of us. She was a friend. You would never have even thought about hurting her."

"And Mr. Fogle – you were more scared of him – or at least of being sent to his office – than he was of you," Laurel said. "You _never_ talked to him. _Ever_. You'd never have been able to get him under that rock by yourself, even if you could have made the rock fall."

He nodded, hesitantly. He knew that they were right. He _couldn't_ have killed anybody by himself, and nobody – no outsider, anyway – would believe that he could have killed Jeffrey. But what did it matter what anybody believed? He _did_ kill them. And it was his fault Mrs. Howard had died, too; he hadn't told anybody what had happened after he killed Kori and the others. If he had told the Circle, maybe they could have stopped the dark energy and Black John before Black John killed anyone else.

"They're right," Deborah said. "Besides, what good would it do to turn yourself in? It wouldn't change anything."

Sean looked away. She was right. Nothing he could do would change anything. Nothing would bring back Kori. Or the others.

"I know," he said softly. "It just seems … _wrong_ … if I … if I … you know – for me to just go free."

"You didn't do anything wrong, Sean," Diana said, just as softly. "And you're not really free, are you? You're punishing yourself more than the police or the justice system ever would."

Laurel was nodding. "Diana's right." Her voice was barely audible. "Sean, I think you're … I don't think you are remembering the … the deaths. Not exactly. You're – it's more like you're reliving them, whenever something reminds you of … what happened. Like a flashback or something."

He shrugged. "I guess so."

"And you can't stop yourself from reliving it?"

"No. I … I can't."

"You need to be able to remember what happened without reliving it, so you –"

"No! I don't want to remember it."

"Okay. Not tonight. Tomorrow. We'll have a ceremony tomorrow." Diana's voice was firm.

Sean shook his head. "No! I don't _want_ a ceremony. And I don't want to remember!"

"You'd prefer to keep reliving their deaths? So Cassie will have to _make_ you stop to keep you from bicycling under the wheels of eighteen-wheelers?" Deborah asked fiercely.

"I … I …" his voice trailed off. He shook his head vaguely. He felt completely drained; too tired to even think.

The voices of the Circle melded together.

He heard someone calling his name, as if from far away.

He felt hands pulling him up, leading him to the road, helping him into a car. Then the car was moving down the street. It stopped. Somebody carried him inside a house and lifted him onto a bed.

He didn't know how long he lay there, neither asleep nor fully awake.

Voices drifted in and out. The light dimmed and faded into darkness.

He drifted off to sleep. A restless sleep, troubled by vague images and disjointed memories.

It was still dark when he woke, his heart pounding with terror, staring around wildly in the darkness, looking for … he didn't know. He couldn't remember what he had dreamed. If he had dreamed at all.


	8. Chapter 8

**The Secret Circle: **

**Out of the Darkness**

The Secret Circle and its characters aren't mine – they belong to L. J. Smith and HarperCollins Publishers.

**Chapter Eight**

"Sean, are you ready? It's time to go," Cassie said from the doorway.

_Go? Where? _Sean stared at Cassie blankly.

"We're all meeting at the beach. For the ceremony. Are you ready?"

Sean felt the blood drain from his face. Mutely, he shook his head. He couldn't face his memories again. Not even in a ceremony.

Cassie walked into the bedroom and sat in the chair beside the bed. "It'll be okay," she said. "Nobody's going to make you talk about anything you aren't ready to talk about. I promise."

Sean looked away.

"Please, just come to the beach with us. You don't have to say anything at the ceremony if you don't want to."

"I don't," he said shortly.

"But will you come to the beach?"

He hesitated for a long moment, and nodded.

* * *

The other Circle members were already there. Someone had placed a circle of quartz crystals on the sand, surrounding a ring of unlit candles and a small fire. Sean froze, staring at it in horror. There hadn't been another death that he was responsible for and didn't remember … had there?

He looked around at the others. They were standing around, talking with each other, waiting. They weren't surrounding him. He could run away, this time. But he doubted he'd get far before they caught him and dragged him back.

"All right, we're all here," Diana said. "Come on inside."

Sean shook his head nervously and involuntarily stepped away. Diana looked at him. So did Laurel and Deborah and Chris. But nobody tried to grab him, to keep him from running. Nobody was accusing him of anything. And nobody dragged him inside the quartz circle.

Nor was anyone waiting for him to enter the quartz circle. Diana stepped through the gap left between two of the crystals and sat down. Laurel, Cassie, and the other members of the Circle followed her. The circle was much bigger this time – big enough for the entire Circle to sit inside, around the candles and the fire.

Hesitantly, Sean followed Suzan inside the circle and sat between her and Deborah, trying to keep an eye on everyone at the same time. Raj lay down just outside the Circle, watching them, with his head resting on his front paws.

Faye placed a crystal in the gap through which everyone had entered the circle.

Diana began the casting of the circle.

"Powers of Earth, be with us in our Circle," she began, walking around the circle just inside the ring of crystals, carrying a small tangerine quartz crystal.

"Powers of Air, be with us in our Circle," Cassie said, following Diana's path with an osprey's feather in her hand.

"Powers of Fire, be with us in our Circle." Faye made the next circuit, carrying a lit candle.

"Powers of Water, be with us in our Circle." Diana made the final circuit, carrying a small bowl of seawater. She thanked the directions and the elements for joining them, and asked for their support for a circle of healing.

Sean was trembling. He wanted to run, to be anywhere but in the circle, but he didn't run. He stayed where he was and turned his gaze to the fire.

"We stopped Black John – and a _hurricane_," Laurel said. "And we're not even old enough to _vote_. It wasn't easy, but we did it. And nobody was killed, and no one was badly hurt. But I've had more than one nightmare about that night. And I want to remember the good in my dreams – our success at working together and defeating him." Laurel lit the white candle in front of her.

"I've had a few nightmares too," Deborah said as she lit her own candle.

Sean stared at her. He hadn't expected Deborah to admit to any weakness.

She grinned at him, wryly. "I wouldn't mind dreaming about the good parts of that day, like Laurel said, instead of the scary parts. But what I really want healed is this blasted arm. I want to ride my Harley again."

There were laughs around the Circle.

Then Cassie spoke up. She told them about how scared she had been to face Black John – her father. About how terrified she had felt – how helpless – when he had tried to get inside her mind – and later, when she found out how Black John's return had affected her mother's mind. And she told them about the sense of belonging, of power, of strength, that she felt when the Circle chose her to be their leader; the feelings that were strengthened when she put on the Master Tools – and when the Circle, all of them, gave her their support when she – when they _all_ – fought, and defeated, Black John.

She was talking to everyone, and to no one in particular – but she glanced at Sean, and then at Faye, when she spoke of them all fighting and defeating Black John.

Sean knew, of course, that he had, in the end, joined the Circle. He had helped the other members of the Circle defeat Black John. It had taken all twelve of them. But he hadn't joined them until after he had killed three people – and after the Circle had captured him, purified him from Black John's influence, and directly asked him whether he was going to join them or join Black John. He hadn't been able to resist Black John's commands – any more than he had ever been able to resist Faye's, or Adam's. Or Cassie's – but she hadn't really given him a command_. _She'd mentally yelled his name to get his attention, but she used her regular voice to tell him to put his hand down.

But he _had_ joined them, then – and he had helped them defeat Black John. He was a Witch – a full-blood Witch. He wasn't powerful like the others – but he didn't care about that, not really. He didn't need to light fires without matches or douse them with water without using a hose or a bucket. He didn't need to move things without touching them. He didn't need to know exactly what other people were thinking. He didn't _want_ to control other people's minds.

He wasn't an expert on herbs and plants, like Laurel, or gems and minerals, and computers, like Melanie; he couldn't fix just about anything with a motor, like Nick. Nor could he draw or paint, like Suzan and Diana. And he lacked the inner strength and self-confidence that all of the older members of the Circle – and now Cassie, too – seemed to have.

But Cassie hadn't had _any_ Powers when she first came to New Salem, or if she had, she hadn't known how to use them. She didn't even know she was a Witch. She, too, had lacked confidence, then. She had seemed almost as shy and high-strung as he. The first time he'd seen Cassie, he had been waiting outside with Chris and Doug and Faye and the others for school to start; Cassie had been walking up the path to the east entrance. She stopped when she saw them standing outside, and ducked back around the corner to avoid them. And then at her locker – she screamed when she saw Faye's doll hanging inside.

But she hadn't screamed when she faced Black John. She hadn't even hesitated when she realized that she had to stand up to him alone. In just a few months, she had not only begun to develop her powers, and learned how to use her mental voice to communicate over long distances and to give commands, and to call on Fire, like Faye; she had developed such strength and assurance that she had successfully led the whole Circle to defeat Black John.

What if he could learn, too? Not to lead the Circle, of course, or to become as powerful and confident as the other members of the Circle. But what if he could learn to defend himself, to protect his mind from attack? He doubted he'd ever be strong enough to resist someone as powerful as Black John, but he could try. And shouldn't he at least be able to shield his mind from the other members of his own Circle?

Adam and Nick and Cassie and the others had blamed the hematite on his belt buckle for his susceptibility to Black John's mental control. They told him that it had decreased his resistance. But he had never been able to resist Adam's or Faye's commands, even before his father gave him that belt – and _they_ weren't, and never had been, nearly as powerful as Black John. Sean wasn't wearing hematite now. He never would again, no matter how much "iron strength" it was supposed to give him. But regardless of what stones or crystals he was or wasn't wearing, he doubted he'd be able to resist the next time Faye or Adam or Cassie – or anyone else – tried to control his mind. Not now. But maybe he could learn. Maybe there was some sort of a spell that could help him.

He hadn't really paid much attention to the Books of Shadows before. He'd helped the others look through everybody's houses for books, papers, and stuff like that. He found his own family's Book hidden among other old documents. He had glanced through it – seen the archaic script, barely legible to his eyes; noticed the peculiar spelling; seen the spells, and the records of rituals, ceremonies, and family events – but he hadn't studied it or learned its spells. Maybe there was some kind of spell in there that would help him shield his mind from someone who was trying to influence him. If so, and if he could learn and perform that spell, then he could make sure that nobody would make him do anything against his will, ever again.

_I'm going to find out_, Sean decided. He would read the Book of Shadows that had belonged to his ancestors. And he would learn how to shield his mind. His father would be upset if he found out that Sean was learning new spells and practicing magic, even if he had meant what he'd said before about the Circle doing the right thing by destroying Black John. Mr. Dulany hated magic. But that didn't matter. Sean was going to do whatever it took to be sure that no one ever took over his mind again. No matter what his father, or anybody else, said.

Sean realized with a start that everybody was watching him. He felt himself flush. He looked down. A glowing circle of candles stood in front of them; the one in front of him was the only unlit candle.

Nick offered him a box of matches.

Sean accepted it. He didn't say anything, but he struck a match and lit the candle in front of him.

"I think it's time to close the Circle, unless anyone has something to add," Cassie said, looking around the Circle.

Nobody did.

"Okay, then. Powers of the Earth, we thank you for being here with us, for giving us your support, your power, your strength," Cassie began, as she sprinkled sand widdershins around the circle. She thanked the other elements for their assistance as she closed the circle with feather, candle, and water.

"Merry meet, and merry part, and merry meet again," Diana said after Cassie finished closing the circle.

The other Circle members echoed her words.

Sean almost laughed at the irony of the traditional closing. There had been nothing merry about this meeting.

But it had given him – something. An idea of something positive to focus on – and, perhaps, a way to, if not atone for what he had done, at least ensure that it would never happen again.


	9. Chapter 9

**The Secret Circle: **

**Out of the Darkness**

The Secret Circle and its characters aren't mine – they belong to L. J. Smith and HarperCollins Publishers. Portions of the dialogue on pages 4-5 are from The Secret Circle: Volume III, The Power, pages 282-283 and 291.

**Chapter Nine**

The Circle kept Sean so busy over the next few days that he barely had time to open his Book of Shadows, let alone find and perform the spell he needed. He helped Chris and the other boys, and Laurel, Deborah, and Melanie, to split the wood from the trees felled by the storm and cut it to size for each family's woodstoves and fireplaces. He helped Laurel with her garden chores, and, with her help, finished his. They pruned the apple, pear, cherry, and plum trees in the orchards, and cut the prunings to size. They spread compost, prepared the garden beds for planting in the spring, and raked the paths. He helped Suzan clean her horses' pastures and stalls, and he exercised Lochlan, Suzan's calm, steady Connemara gelding, while she exercised Inara, her spirited sorrel Arabian mare.

He tried to pretend that it was just a coincidence that just about everyone seemed to need his help with their winter chores this year; just a coincidence that, no matter where he went, at least two or three members of the Circle happened to be there as well. But he knew it wasn't. The Circle members thought he'd tried to hit that truck on purpose. They were trying to protect him from himself. And they were watching him even more closely than they had before, with an odd combination of distrust, disdain, and worry.

* * *

It was early Saturday morning. The sky was beginning to lighten, though the sun hadn't risen yet, and Sean wanted to escape before anyone asked for his help with yet another chore. He wanted to get started on reading his Book of Shadows – and to get away from the endless scrutiny of the Circle members. He put his Book of Shadows in his backpack and walked outside, quietly pulling the door shut behind him.

"Hey, Sean!" Doug's voice called.

Sean startled, staring wildly around the empty garden.

Doug jumped down from his perch in the chestnut tree in front of the porch, landing lightly in front of Sean. Chris followed him.

"Sorry," Doug said. "There aren't any chairs out here. And the ground's kind of cold."

Sean nodded silently.

"Hey, dude – me and Chris are gonna go to Salem. You wanna come? We're goin' free runnin' at the college."

Sean laughed. He doubted climbing up or vaulting over walls or walking along railings or rooftops was exactly what Cassie or Diana or whoever had asked the Henderson brothers to keep an eye on him today had had in mind. And he knew he couldn't keep up with Doug or Chris. His injuries were healing well, but they weren't completely healed yet – and he couldn't always keep up with the twins at the best of times.

"Come on. You haven't come with us in ages. We're gonna think you don't remember how."

He shook his head. "No thanks. I … I'm just going to the beach."

Doug hesitated for a moment, and grinned mischievously. "To Seal Cove?" he asked. "We can go bouldering there."

Sean shrugged. "Sure." Seal Cove was a small cove, near the headland, with a tiny beach surrounded on two sides by boulders and in the back by an insurmountable cliff. It would be quiet, free from too many prying eyes.

Doug led the way down the path to the steep carved steps leading to the main beach, and along a rather steep, indirect route over the boulders to the hidden beach.

When they reached the hidden beach, Sean sat on the lee side of a large boulder, where he'd be sheltered from the icy wind, and pulled out his Book of Shadows. He looked at the twins; they were climbing a large boulder so flat on the side they were climbing that Sean could barely see the hand- and toe-holds they were using. Chris caught his eye and grinned. "You want to join us?" he called.

Sean shook his head, returning Chris's grin. "No, thanks." He turned to his Book and opened it. After reading for a few minutes, he became accustomed to the archaic script and spelling in which his ancestors had written, and he soon lost himself in his reading. A lot of what he had found was useless – descriptions of rituals and ceremonies, births, handfastings, deaths – even records of crops – but some of the spells were interesting, even if they didn't seem particularly useful at the moment: _To Cure a Sickly Child_. _To Ensure a Bountiful Harvest_. _To Guard Against Fire_. _To Bring Rain. To Ensure a Safe Journey_. _To Cast Out Fear and Malignant Emotions_ – well, he could use that one. But it wasn't what he was looking for.

He was beginning to wonder if there was no spell to shield a person's mind. Maybe a person was either born with the ability to shield his or her mind – or not.

_No_. _There _has_ to be a spell, or something. And I have to find it_.

"Hey, Sean, it's freezing out here."

Sean started. Suzan was standing beside him, scowling, her hair blowing wildly in the wind. Cassie and Diana were sitting nearby on the leeward side of a group of rocks, talking quietly about something. Neither Chris nor Doug was anywhere to be seen.

_Then go home_. _Leave me alone._ He didn't say it. He nodded. "You're right."

"Could we please go inside someplace warm now?" she asked. "And get something to eat?"

Cassie and Diana both looked at Suzan and laughed.

"That's fine by me," Diana said. "We can go eat at my place. My dad's at the office today."

"Okay," Suzan said.

She looked at Sean. Cassie and Diana were watching him, too.

"Will you join us for dinner?" Diana asked him.

_Dinner? _He looked up. The sun was nearly hidden by clouds, but sure enough, it was low in the western sky. He shrugged. "Sure. Thanks." He followed the girls down the beach and up the path to Diana's house.

Laurel and Melanie joined them for dinner. Sean helped Laurel and Cassie prepare a salad; Diana ordered a pizza. The girls were deeply involved in a discussion of the security measures the Circle members were taking. Sean had forgotten that they had all agreed not to be alone outside, after the attack on him and Suzan.

Laurel was complaining about the difficulty of finding someone to accompany her every time she went outside to her garden. Diana and Cassie told the others about the unfamiliar cars they had seen cruising down Crowhaven Road; they were certain that outsiders – possibly witch hunters – were watching the Circle members. And they knew that whatever the outsiders were planning, it couldn't be good.

Yet Sean felt an unmistakable sense of relief. It _wasn't_ just because of what he'd done, or almost done, that the Circle wasn't letting him alone. They were protecting him, and each other, from the outsiders – not just protecting him from himself.

* * *

A large, 17th century house solidified on the vacant lot before him as the lunar eclipse reached totality. The house and the moon glowed with the same eerie blood-red light. Both felt wrong – evil.

Sean stared at the house, terrified – and mesmerized. He couldn't run. He couldn't even look away. But he _had_ to get away. They all did. He knew what waited inside. And he knew that they couldn't face it.

But Cassie said, "I have to go alone."

The members of the Circle tried to talk her out of it. Their voices sounded far, far away.

Cassie wasn't listening to them. She was watching her Circle. She straightened with determination and stood before them, confident in her strength and power, emanating confidence as she met each of their eyes.

"If you didn't want to listen to me you shouldn't have elected me leader," she said. And then she told them what they already knew. Black John was waiting for her inside, and she was going to fight him alone – with nothing but her own power and knowledge and the Master Tools to protect her.

She told them to stay outside and wait for her. And she began to walk toward the house.

Sean tried to go after her, but he couldn't move.

The wind started up again; a gentle breeze at first, but it soon strengthened.

"It's time," Diana said quietly after what seemed like ages. She started walking toward the house. Adam was right behind her, followed by Deborah, Nick, Laurel, Melanie, Doug, Chris, and Suzan.

Sean found that he could move again. He walked with the others into the eerily glowing house.

Cassie was upstairs, glowing with power as she faced a tall man who didn't seem, somehow, quite like a man. Sean could feel the evil emanating from him.

Faye stood behind the tall man.

Deborah, and Nick, and Laurel – nearly the entire Circle stood behind Cassie, emanating confidence and power – and anger – as they called on the powers of Nature to defeat Black John.

"Power of thunder have I over thee," Doug said calmly.

"Power of lightning have I over thee!" Chris yelled.

Sean was standing behind Chris; it was his turn to invoke one of the powers of Nature. He couldn't move; he couldn't make a sound.

But he wasn't alone. Suzan was standing behind him.

"Power of dew have I over thee," Suzan said. She pushed Sean forward, toward Black John.

And the paralysis lost its grip on his throat, and he could speak. "Power of blood have I over thee!" he yelled.

It wasn't enough. Black John straightened. He took a step toward them, and another.

"That wasn't wise," he said. His tone was as calm as if he were merely discussing the weather on a calm summer's day, but his voice was as cold as glacial ice. He reached for Cassie, who was closest to him – and when he touched her, she slumped down and fell heavily on the floor, her eyes wide and unseeing, her chest still.

He reached for Sean – and the crystal skull exploded. A piercing scream tore through the air, and Black John and the house they were standing in vanished.

Sean was falling … and then he was standing in Adam's living room in the middle of a circle of quartz crystals. The clothes he was wearing were too big for him. His hair was dripping on the spotless wooden floor. The Circle was surrounding him, watching him with the same eerie confidence they'd shown when they faced Black John.

"You killed our sister," Doug said in a flat, emotionless voice. But his haunted eyes glowed as he stared at Sean and took a menacing step closer. Chris followed him, half a step behind.

"You killed Jeffrey," Faye said, stepping forward to stand beside Doug. Her golden eyes glowed cruelly.

"You killed Mr. Fogle." Suzan said from behind him. Sean whirled around to face her. She was glaring at him, too.

"You told Black John what he wanted to know," Diana said from the other side of the circle, her green eyes sorrowful.

"You were a container for Black John, for the dark energy," Adam said.

"You didn't stop him."

"You didn't fight it."

"You didn't warn us."

"You were weak."

"It was your fault."

"You killed them all."

Sean stared wildly from one Circle member to another. They were surrounding him, stepping inexorably closer, staring at him with their accusatory eyes.

_Run! Get out of here! _He tried, but he couldn't move.

They stopped.

And Cassie spoke. "Power of moon have I over thee," she said. "Power of sun have I over thee."

Then they were all calling on the powers of the elements of Nature – the stars and planets, rain and tides and wind and ice and leaf and root and rock and thunder and lightning and dew.

"Power of Fire have I over thee," Faye said at last … and smiled.

* * *

Sean opened his eyes. The horrible glowing room in Black John's house at Number Thirteen was gone; the Circle was no longer surrounding him. He was alone in his own room, sitting in the desk chair. His Book of Shadows was open on the desk in front of him.

He raced to the window and pulled open the curtains, unlatched the window, and pushed it open. He stood there, shivering as the icy wind chilled his sweat-soaked clothes, staring out the window at the trees outside, trying to ground himself.

The spreading chestnuts in front of the house and the maples across the road were dimly visible in the early morning light. A small flock of wild turkeys chattered to each other as they searched the tall grass for breakfast. A hen called an alarm and ran across the lawn. Her flock joined her, taking flight as they reached the drive. Raj darted out from the bayberry hedge that surrounded the front garden, and ran after them. He stopped at the road, his ears still pricked alertly as he watched and listened to the departing birds.

A whistle pierced the air. Raj turned and galloped away, toward Adam's house. The morning was silent for a while; then the turkeys began calling again, from a new foraging spot somewhere in the woods across the road.

Sean shut the window. He put his coat on and walked downstairs and out the back door as quietly as he could. He put on his sneakers and walked to the garage.

"Hey, Sean, wait up!" Doug yelled from his perch in the chestnut tree.

_No! Leave me alone! _He bit his lip hard and said nothing. He unlocked the garage door and walked inside. Doug followed. Chris raced to catch up. Sean took out his bike.

"Um, Sean, I don't think that's such a good idea," Chris said.

Sean looked up. Both twins were watching him. They looked nervous.

He scowled at them. "I'm going for a ride," he said.

They were still staring at him.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. They were just trying to look out for him. He opened his eyes and looked at them. "I haven't ridden … it's been a week since …" he stopped. "I, uh, I just … I just need to go for a ride."

They looked at each other.

"I'm _fine_," he told them. He knew that wasn't true; he knew _they_ knew it wasn't true. But he was better than he had been. The memories had overwhelmed him only a few times over the last week, during the day anyway. He'd even been able to sleep through the night a couple of times without being awakened by nightmares. The exercise from cutting wood and working in the gardens, pasture, and barn – and, he suspected, just being away from the stress of school and classes and crowds of people, and away from the places which seemed to trigger the memories – seemed to be helping him to hold the memories at bay. But enough wood was already cut and split, the garden chores were finished for the next couple of weeks, and the pastures and barn were clean. He needed to ride.

To his surprise, Chris nodded. "All right. But only if we come with you".

"Okay," he said.

"And only if Cassie comes with us, too," Doug said. "Or Adam or Faye. I'll go call them and see if they want to come."

Cassie and Adam did. So did Diana. And Laurel. And Melanie. Even Suzan came along.

Sean didn't complain. He rode with the others, between Cassie and Adam.

Chris led them on a quiet, nearly flat route with almost no traffic. He set a pace slow enough that everyone could easily keep up.

Sean didn't say anything when they returned home less than an hour later, without having ridden up – or down – a single steep hill, or gone for so much as one short sprint.

* * *

The next day was almost the same. Nick, Melanie, and Adam – and Raj, of course – came along when Sean went out running. Nick set the pace – a slow, steady jog. He led the way down Crowhaven Road, and up Marsh Street. When they turned on Sandpiper Lane, Sean sped up and passed Nick. He needed to _run_, not jog – especially since he suspected that it might be a long time before anyone let him go for a real bicycle ride.

No one said anything or stopped him. Raj galloped up to him and trotted alongside, his mouth open in a contented canine grin. Melanie and Nick increased their pace to run beside Sean and Raj. Adam pulled ahead, leading the way down the narrow rural road, past a few widely spaced farmhouses; past gardens, orchards, and pastures.

Nick fell back after a mile or so, slowing to a jog.

Adam kept going until they passed an old Cape Cod-style house with a bowed roof and a garden in the front. He turned off the road and led the way onto an overgrown trail leading through the woods. He slowed, ducking under and dodging the branches of maple and oak, sumac, witch-hazel, sheep laurel, and blueberry, which were encroaching on the path.

Sean jogged behind Adam. Avoiding the branches and shrubs was easier for him, with his smaller, more agile frame, but the path was too narrow, and the shrubs alongside too thick, for him to pass.

The path wound up a gradual incline and down again on the other side of the small hill before leveling off as it passed through an open meadow. A doe and her half-grown fawn bounded away, hiding themselves in the woods on the far side of the meadow.

Sean jumped into a sprint as soon as the path widened. Raj ran beside him; Melanie followed, just behind them. Adam sped up, too, maintaining his lead. They kept going, following the path across the meadow and back into the woods toward Crowhaven Road. Adam turned on the road and kept going.

Sean slowed to a jog when they reached the road. So did Melanie. Nick, running hard, soon caught up.

Raj galloped ahead to join Adam, who stopped and grinned at the others. "Good race," Adam said. "But I won."

Sean grinned at him. "Not by much. And you don't have a chance on a bike."

"You only won … because you're … the only … one of us … besides Sean … who goes running … every week," Nick said irritably as he tried to catch his breath.

"That's not true," Melanie said. She was watching Nick, coolly. She didn't seem to be breathing hard at all; she looked as if she'd just returned from a short, pleasant walk. "Adam and Sean aren't the only Circle members who run. Laurel and I run a couple of miles three or four times a week. Diana runs, too, sometimes. So does Deborah. And Cassie's joined us a couple of times."

Nick actually smiled at her. "In that case, I guess I need to start running."

Melanie smiled back. "And stay away from those cigarettes."


	10. Chapter 10

**The Secret Circle: **

**Out of the Darkness**

The Secret Circle and its characters aren't mine – they belong to L. J. Smith and HarperCollins Publishers.

**Chapter Ten**

It was snowing outside the next morning. A thin layer of snow already covered the ground, and a swirling white blanket filled the air.

Sean was at the Hendersons' house, playing rhythm on Chris's acoustic guitar while Chris worked on a lead guitar part he was writing.

The phone rang. Chris put down his guitar and picked it up. "Hello? … Okay… Yeah, we'll be there."

"That was Faye," he said, hanging up the phone. "We're having a meeting at her place after lunch. At 1:00."

Sean sighed. "Okay." He really didn't want to go to a meeting – especially one that Faye was organizing. But he didn't want to argue about it, either.

He turned back to the guitar.

The front door slammed.

Sean started.

Doug walked inside, brushing snow off his coat and pulling off his snow-covered hat. "It's wicked out there," he said, grinning wildly. "I could hardly see where I was going."

"Where'd you go?" Chris asked.

"To Deb's. Hey, Faye's having a meeting today."

"Yeah, we know. She just called."

"I'm starved. I'm gonna go get some food."

"Me too." Chris put his guitar on its stand and turned off the amp. "You coming?" he asked Sean.

"Sure." Sean put the acoustic guitar in its case and followed Chris to the kitchen. He grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table and returned to the den. Neither of the twins followed him. He took his Book of Shadows out of his backpack and started turning through the pages while he ate.

_To Ensure a Safe Journey. To Cast Out Fear and Malignant Emotions. To Ensure a Safe Birth. To Protect a Child from Harm. To Shield One's Mind_. _To _–

He stopped and turned back to the previous page. He read the title again: _To Shield One's Mind. _Yes. That's what he was looking for. He read the instructions.

"Imagine that you are in a protected place. It can be any place you choose: a room, a grove of trees, a rocky beach, a fort – anyplace you feel safe. Visualize the texture of the walls and doors of the room, the placement of the windows; the texture of the bark and leaves of the trees; the color of the stone at the beach; the wooden palisade or stone walls of the fort. Imagine yourself there, shielded from any harm. Practice until you can visualize yourself in your safe place instantly and hold the image there, in your mind's eye, at any time – regardless of your current task or state of mind."

It wasn't really a spell; more a mental exercise or meditation. Sean had never had the patience to develop any skill with any kind of mental exercise or meditation. But he had to try.

He closed his eyes. He pictured the small cave in the granite outcrop behind the school: its cool, solid, rough surface; the red-brown color of the granite, speckled with white, grey, and black crystals of feldspar and quartz and mica; the earthy scent of soil, moss, and humidity.

But when he focused on the texture of the rock, he couldn't see the color. And when he pictured the color, he could no longer feel the rock. He could only focus on a small part of the cave at a time – a particular rock, or part of a rock, or an aspect of its appearance. And he couldn't imagine the peaceful, protected feeling of the cave at all.

He tried again. And again. But he still couldn't hold the entire picture in his mind long enough to visualize the entire cave at all, let alone in enough detail to make it seem tangible and secure.

"Come on, you guys, let's go!" Chris called from the front door after what seemed like hours.

Sean sighed. He wasn't getting anywhere; he didn't have any more of a mental shield than he'd had before he started. And his head was starting to hurt again. He might as well give up – for the time being.

"Sean! Let's go!"

"I'm coming," Sean called back. He put his Book away and walked outside.

* * *

Most of the Circle was already gathered inside Faye's den. Faye's kittens were lying on the hearth, basking in the warmth of a roaring fire.

Sean sank into an armchair near the fireplace. Both kittens looked up. The grey kitten trotted over to Sean and jumped up on his lap, followed by the orange.

"Hey, Kali; hey, Shiva. How's it going?" he whispered to them as he stroked Kali's smooth, silky grey fur and Shiva's fluffy orange fur. The orange kitten purred. The grey one started to climb Sean's sweater. "No, Kali; I don't think so." He picked her up, carefully removing her claws from his sweater, and put her beside her brother. She turned her back to him and stared into the fire, but her purr soon joined her brother's.

A door shut. Nick walked in and sat beside Deborah on the couch.

Faye came in a few minutes later, carrying a tray with twelve small glasses, each filled with a golden liquid. She set the tray on a table beside a stack of china plates. Suzan followed with a tray of little sandwiches and a bowl of apples and oranges.

"Would anyone care for some … refreshments?" Faye asked, looking around the Circle and smiling oddly at Diana and Laurel.

"Thank you," Diana said, taking an orange and peeling it. Laurel took an apple. Most of the others followed, filling plates with fruit or sandwiches, and picking up glasses of the golden liquid.

Neither Diana nor Laurel took a glass. Nor did Cassie or Melanie.

Sean shook his head when Faye offered him a glass. "No, thank you."

Faye smiled at him benignly.

"Our school board has been … busy," she said at last, after people had finished their snack and taken their plates and glasses into the kitchen.

Diana looked at her, startled. So did Cassie and Adam. "You don't mean …" Diana's voice trailed off.

"Oh, yes, I do. Our school board has found a candidate – a promising candidate – to fill the late Mr. Fogle's – and Mr. Brunswick's – position."

Sean tensed, expecting to find himself back at Devil's Cove, watching himself shift the huge granite boulder and push it until –

_Stop thinking about that, you idiot_. He glanced at the others, but no one seemed to be watching him. He turned back to the kittens. His hand was trembling.

"They needed some … assistance, of course. They had to know the right places to look."

The Circle waited silently, watching Faye intently.

"Not, for example, in school districts renowned for their intolerance of students who are, shall we say, _different_. Not in school districts renowned for their insistence on conformity – in dress, in speech – in thought, too, I imagine. Not in school districts renowned for –"

"Okay, Faye. So they shouldn't have looked for candidates to serve as the principal of New Salem High in the Bible Belt, or in school districts with mandatory uniforms or dress codes. We get it," Adam said impatiently. "Who did they hire?"

Faye glanced at him, and went on as if he hadn't spoken. "Not in school districts which follow so-called "tough love" policies – such as those instated by the late Mr. Brunswick here at our very own New Salem High School."

"Which some of us supported," Laurel said under her breath.

Faye ignored her. "And not in school districts in places where a person has to belong to a church – and attend services every Sunday – to be a … _good_ _citizen_."

She smiled. "They looked in San Francisco." She looked around the circle.

Cassie looked confused. Adam was still watching Faye impatiently. So was Laurel. Deborah and Suzan and Chris and Doug were grinning. Melanie and Nick – Sean couldn't tell what they were thinking.

Diana was actually smiling at Faye. "They found someone there," she said.

Faye smiled back. "Yes."

"Why San Francisco?" Cassie asked. "Why look there?"

"San Francisco is known for its tolerance of people who are _different_," Faye said. "Including witches."

Cassie looked at Diana uncertainly.

Diana nodded. "San Francisco has a thriving Pagan community. I don't know whether or not any of them are hereditary Witches like we are, or if they can call on the Powers, but they do honor the old ways."

Laurel nodded. "And they work to protect Mother Earth. They teach people about sustainable living and permaculture – you know, integrating human homes and edible gardens into sustainable ecosystems, and growing foods and herbs without _pesticides_ or synthetic fertilizers –"

"Fascinating though this discussion may be, could we please get to the point?" Adam interrupted, glowering at Laurel. He turned back to Faye. "Who is the new principal? And what do you know about him?"

Faye grinned at him wickedly. "I know that _she_ is a woman. Her name's Sandra Jackson. She was the vice-principal at one of the high schools there. Before that, she was a teacher – and can anyone guess what she taught?" Faye looked around at the members of the Circle.

Nobody answered.

"She was a social studies teacher – and she taught comparative religions. She was also one of the teacher advisors for the school's social responsibility club." Faye's eyes gleamed. "I somehow doubt that she condones burning Witches at the stake."

There was a murmur of excitement around the circle.

"We still need to be careful," Adam said. "San Francisco is a big city. Any teacher or principal from there must be used to dealing with gangs. I doubt that she'll allow any group to have any special privileges that the other students don't have."

Cassie nodded. "Adam's right."

"_Of course_ we need to be careful," Faye said. "That's why Melanie and I – and Cassie and my dear cousin, too, if they would like to join us – we'll be accompanying Miss Burke and Mrs. Henderson and Mr. Livy – you know, the chairman of the school board – to interview her in person. We're flying out tomorrow."

"Faye, the school board isn't going to invite high school students – not even Circle members – to a job interview for their candidate," Adam said, looking at her oddly.

Faye smiled an innocent smile. "Well, of course they won't. Mr. Livy, Miss Burke, and Mrs. Henderson will interview their candidate all by themselves. _I'm_ just going along on a short vacation to San Francisco. I'll take in the sights, buy some postcards to send back home, have lunch at the Japanese Tea Garden –"

"Get to the point, Faye," Adam said through gritted teeth.

"I'm going to find an opportunity to talk with her informally," she said. "It won't be hard. I'm sure I'll be invited to dinner with the new candidate and the school board at least once."

Diana looked at Faye thoughtfully. "You're probably right. And it's not a bad idea, to talk with the candidate. All right, Faye. I'll come."

"So will I," Cassie said. She looked at Adam.

He nodded. "I'll come, too."

There was a murmur of agreement and good wishes for the flight and the mission from the other Circle members.

"Now that that's agreed, I think it's time for some important business," Suzan said. "We need to celebrate. We're probably getting a new principal – a _woman_ – _and_ it's New Year's Eve."

"I agree," Faye said, grinning wickedly. "_I _think we should go into Salem tonight and crash the New Year's Eve party at the college."

"Cool!" Doug said.

"You guys," Diana began.

"Come on, it'll be fun!" Suzan interrupted. "It's not like we're going to ruin their party. It'll be a big dance – they have one every year. We'll join in and have fun."

"Well, I'm coming," Chris said.

Deborah nodded. "So am I."

"That actually does sound like fun," Laurel said. "I'll come."

Melanie, Cassie, and Adam agreed, too.

"What about you, Nick?" Faye asked.

"All right."

"Sean? What about you?"

Sean shook his head, staring at Faye in horror. "Me? Crash a _college_ party? No way!"

Faye chuckled. Deborah and Cassie laughed. Even Diana smiled.

"Diana? Are you coming with us?" Laurel asked.

"I suppose I will," Diana said, still smiling.

"Now that that's decided, I declare this meeting officially over," Faye said. "Unless anyone has any other business?"

No one did.

The circle broke up and people started to head home.

Sean walked out the door. It was still snowing outside; the sky was already nearly dark.

"You want a ride home?" Cassie asked, joining him outside.

"Uh, sure. Thanks." He followed Cassie to her Volkswagen and climbed in.

Cassie backed the car out of Faye's drive and drove slowly up the road. "Faye's kittens seem to like you," she said.

Sean smiled. "Yeah. They're nice cats."

Cassie raised her eyebrows. "Are they?"

"Yes. They just – you can't let them climb up to your shoulders or they might bite you. But they're really friendly."

Cassie laughed. "As long as they're not biting." Her expression sobered. "But aren't they also … don't they spy on people for Faye?"

Sean shook his head. "No. I don't think so. I think they just – they spend a lot of time outside, or looking out the windows, and they see what's going on. And they let Faye know what they see. But they're not spies."

She looked at him uncertainly.

"They're _cats_," he said. "They watch what they want to watch. I don't think they'd listen to Faye if she did tell them to spy on someone. They do watch people, but they watch animals, too – like dogs. They don't like dogs. Faye said they always tell her when Raj is around. Foxes and owls, too."

"I guess I just don't like the idea of being watched by someone who tells Faye everything I do," Cassie said, pulling into Sean's family's drive.

Sean shrugged. "You're right. But they probably don't tell her everything they see – only what they think is interesting. And even if they did, I don't think Faye usually pays much attention. I mean, I don't think she really cares – you know, which of us goes for a bike ride, or goes running, or walks down to the beach, or works in the garden, or … you know, whatever it is we're doing outside. It … I think it would probably get kind of boring."

Cassie laughed. "I suppose you're right." She stopped the car in front of the garage.

Sean smiled at her. "Thanks for the ride," he said. He stepped out and shut the door behind him.

"No problem. See you around."

"Okay. Bye." He waited until she pulled out of his family's drive, and walked to the door. He brushed the snow off his clothes as well as he could, took off his snow-covered shoes, and went inside.

* * *

New Year's Day dawned sunny and cold; the clouds that would bring more snow wouldn't blow in until later. Snow covered the ground, except for the narrow lane Mr. Henderson had plowed through the middle of Crowhaven Road. Sean ate a quick breakfast and hurried out to the garage.

Chris and Doug were already waiting for him with their mountain bikes when he pushed his own mountain bike outside. He sighed. It wasn't even 8:00 – and it was New Year's Day. He'd hoped nobody would be up this early, not after the New Year's Eve party most of them had gone to the night before.

"I don't need a guard," he said irritably as he mounted his bike and started down the road. "I'm fine."

"Of course you are," Chris said, pedaling beside him. "But nobody's supposed to be outside alone, remember? Besides, we need some exercise. We've got to get fit, you know."

"Yeah," Doug said. "It's, like, a New Year's resolution. So you've got to keep us in line and make sure we ride fast enough. And, like, ride up hills and stuff."

Sean felt some of the tension drain from his body, even though he knew they were just giving him an excuse. He glanced over his shoulder at Doug. "Okay. I will."

He picked up his cadence, shifted up – and the bike sprang ahead. Sean darted past Chris, passing on his right, and sprinted down the road.

"Hey, wait up!" Chris yelled.

"I can't – you're going too slow," Sean yelled back over his shoulder. He kept going. The others followed – down Crowhaven Road, up Marsh Street, onto Ridge Road, and up the hill toward the school's east entrance. Neither of them was far behind, but not even Chris on his new aluminum Trek passed him.

Sean waited by the gate for the others to catch up.

Chris grinned at him. "Good race, dude. But now it's time for the fun stuff." He rode past the bike racks and jumped over the steps into the empty parking lot. He turned the bike and pulled it into a bunnyhop over a curb. Sean and Doug followed.

Chris led the way down the steep hill and along the road until it intersected with a trail. He turned on the trail, riding carefully up the steep slope until it leveled out. He left the trail and jumped up onto a large fallen oak. He rode down its length, jumping off again just before reaching the lowest branches. Doug followed him. Sean smiled and shook his head when they looked at him. Chris shrugged, and turned back to the trail. He led Doug and Sean along a convoluted route between trees, over fallen logs, and over rocks that jutted out from the hillsides near the trail.

Eventually, he led the way back to Crowhaven Road. "You want to come over for lunch?" he asked when they neared the Hendersons' house.

Sean shook his head. "No, thanks. I want to go home. I've still got some homework to finish."

"Okay." Chris rode on to Sean's house. He and Doug waited until Sean put his bike away and locked the garage door before they said good-bye and rode home.


	11. Chapter 11

**The Secret Circle: **

**Out of the Darkness**

The Secret Circle and its characters aren't mine – they belong to L. J. Smith and HarperCollins Publishers.

**Chapter Eleven**

Monday morning was cold and windy. The sun barely lightened the leaden sky, although sunrise was almost an hour ago. And nobody was waiting outside when Sean opened the garage door and took out his bike. He smiled. He shut the garage door, coasted down the gravel driveway, and turned onto Crowhaven Road, riding slowly down the hill.

A car came up behind him, and he flinched. He looked up. Chris and Doug grinned at him from their Suzuki Samurai as they passed him. Sean nodded at them. He realized how tightly he was holding the handlebars and made himself loosen his grip.

He was almost at the intersection with Marsh Street. The wind picked up. A car drove by, toward town. A pick-up truck followed. Sean grabbed the brakes and slowed the bike almost to a complete stop. He was shaking as he turned onto Marsh Street.

He was surprised to find himself nervous about riding near traffic. It had never bothered him before, not really. Not even when he first started riding to school. And he'd been riding to school since he was seven. He'd been riding alone almost every day this year, now that the senior Circle members – and Cassie – had their drivers' licenses and cars and motorcycle, and Laurel was taking zero period AP biology.

_Just_ _ride_, he told himself angrily. _It's not hard_.

The Bianchi responded perfectly as he rode, springing ahead when he increased his cadence or shifted up, slowing when he downshifted or stopped pedaling; the brakes responded to the lightest touch. The bike remained steady despite the strength of the wind. The passing cars gave him plenty of room on the wide road. By the time he reached the hill, he'd almost relaxed. He rode up to the summit and stopped the bike just outside the gate.

The bike racks were almost empty. Only Laurel's bike and a few others were already inside. Three outsider girls, and four or five boys, were talking and laughing as they locked up their bikes.

Sean froze – too close to the gate. They would see him. And they'd jump out at him and hit him and then they'd grab him and he wouldn't be able to breathe and …

And they finished with their bikes and walked through the gate. They didn't seem to notice Sean as they walked by. Their conversation was banal as they passed him and walked up the path toward the school – Winter Break, basketball, and classes. Not Witches or witch-hunts, weapons, or plans to burn people at the stake.

Sean's legs weren't quite steady as he pushed his bike to a vacant rack. He sat next to the bike to take out his lock.

"What's the matter, isn't your broomstick working today?" a voice jeered.

Sean looked up. A slender girl, who would have been pretty had she worn a pleasanter expression, was walking past him toward a vacant rack. She was pushing an old department store ten-speed. She looked vaguely familiar – he must have seen her around school. Her voice wasn't filled with the cold, hard hatred he'd felt from the outsiders who'd attacked him, but with the familiar, disdainful tone that most outsiders – and some of the Circle, too – used when they spoke to him.

Sean grinned at her. "It was working fine the last time I checked – and my floor's all clean."

He shrugged when she rolled her eyes. He locked his bike and zipped his backpack shut. He pulled it on and headed toward the gate.

Faye and Suzan were standing outside the school's east entrance. "At least she didn't try to burn you at the stake," Suzan said.

Sean looked at her. "Not yet," he said.

* * *

The Circle had agreed to meet on the beach after school. Diana and Cassie were telling Sean, Melanie, and Suzan about their trip to San Francisco while they waited for everyone else to arrive.

Sean was barely listening. All day, at school, he'd felt eyes watching him. He thought he saw witch hunters in every corner and behind every door, waiting to jump out at him – until he turned and saw no one there. He thought he saw Kori and Jeffrey and Mr. Fogle, too; watching him with vacant or bewildered or accusatory eyes. He tried closing his own eyes and grounding himself, trying to get the memories back under control – but there were too many people around. Someone would come up behind him, or a locker would slam, or a door shut, or a bell ring, and he'd startle and open his eyes, and they'd still be there, watching him. Or he'd see Kori's body lying still, half hidden by shrubs at the bottom of the hill, or Mr. Fogle's hand poking out of the pile of rock, or Jeffrey's body swinging back and forth, back and forth.

Even sitting in the back of the classrooms, he couldn't concentrate, not even on homework or a novel or a crossword puzzle. And he was so tense that he couldn't write – his hand shook too badly.

And then, in algebra, they had a surprise quiz. Sean hadn't heard the teacher announce it at the beginning of class; he didn't know about it until the teacher started to hand out the papers. And he froze. His heart started racing. He felt a cold sweat break out. And he felt his breathing get faster and faster, and shallower and shallower. The words and numbers on the paper in front of him blurred together and went grey. The pencil dropped from his fingers and clattered loudly on the desk. He heard somebody in the distance, calling his name. And then everything went dark.

An osprey screamed, jarring him back to the present.

"_Everybody's_ nervous – even the teachers," Laurel was saying.

Sean glanced at her. She _was_ watching him. Probably everyone in the Circle knew by now what had happened. He felt himself flush. He looked away, absently watching a trio of gulls fly overhead.

"It's like they're waiting for us to … I don't know. To do something," Laurel said. "They're all watching us like we're bombs about to go off or something."

"Even Ms. Lanning and Mr. Humphries and the rest of the staff seem different," Diana said. "They're still polite, of course, but … distant."

"Not everyone's being polite," Laurel said. "Not the students, anyway. I heard Brant Hegerwood say something to Deborah at lunch today – I didn't catch the whole thing, but he said something about "demon spawn". Doug almost decked him.

Suzan smiled. "If he had, _Deb_ would have decked _him_."

Laurel giggled. "That's probably why he stopped."

"It doesn't really matter if we and the outsiders are polite to each other. Just so long as nobody does anything – bad," Diana said. "And so far, nobody has been kidnapped or beaten or burned at the stake. Not this year. And nobody has started any fights."

"They want to, though. At least Portia does. If looks could kill, I for one would be history," Cassie said.

"Her brothers – Logan and Jordan, right?" Suzan glanced at Cassie, who nodded.

"They're still around. Deborah and Nick saw them on campus before school this morning."

"But they haven't been back to Crowhaven Road," Diana pointed out.

"They're waiting. Everybody is – just like us," Cassie said.

"Or they're getting ready for something," Suzan said absently.

* * *

Soon after the sun set, the other Circle members arrived at the beach. Faye, Diana, and Cassie told the others about their trip to San Francisco and their meeting with the principal-to-be. Everyone agreed that Ms. Jackson would probably be a good principal – better than Mr. Fogle; much better, of course, than Mr. Brunswick. It wasn't long before the conversation turned to the nearly inevitable topic of relations between Witch and outsider.

Deborah wasn't the only Club member an outsider had insulted, and nearly everyone had noticed outsiders' fear and hatred directed toward them. But no one knew whether or not the outsiders were going to pursue the witch hunt Mr. Brunswick had begun.

Conversation ceased as the moon rose, peeking up over the horizon and shining on the calm sea. The members of the Circle gathered around the small fire Cassie had lit, and Diana cast the circle. She said the incantations for a traditional full moon ceremony, and turned to Cassie.

Cassie held a small piece of polished jade up to the moonlight. She called on Earth, asking for patience and endurance regardless of what the outsiders might try. As she finished, she set the jade in a small wooden bowl beside the fire at the center of the circle. She turned to Diana and nodded to her.

Diana held a white dove's feather aloft. She called on Air, asking the wind and breezes to blow away the strife between Witch and outsider. She placed the feather in a second bowl, beside Cassie's.

Faye was next. She lit a red candle in her usual dramatic way, and called on Fire, asking for strength and determination. She set the candle in the sand.

Finally, Cassie raised a clear glass half-filled with sea-water. She called on Water, asking that the rain and snow and streams and ocean wash away troubles and sorrows. She set the glass beside Faye's candle.

Sean could feel the strength of the Earth, and the coolness of the wind, and the warmth of the fire, and he watched the tireless energy of the ocean as the waves rolled in and flowed back out.

Faye called the directions and closed the circle.

"The circle is closed, but unbroken. Merry meet, and merry part, and merry meet again," Diana said.

The others repeated her words.

Melanie poured water on the bonfire, carefully making sure that all of the embers were extinguished. The circle broke up, and the members made their way home.

Sean was asleep almost as soon as he lay down on the bed. That night, he slept without dreams. And, for once, the sun had already risen when he woke.

* * *

School wasn't any easier the next day. Sean hurried from one class to the next, talking to no-one, trying not to look at anyone, trying to ignore the outsiders' hostile eyes. He tried to stay away from any place that would remind him of Kori, or Jeffrey, or Mr. Fogle, desperately trying to escape the memories. He stayed away from the stairs and the granite outcrop in front of the school; he took the long way through the halls to avoid passing the custodian's office in C-wing – the one which led to the boiler room.

He sat in the back of his classes, near the door, so he wouldn't feel so many eyes watching him. He didn't listen to his teachers' lectures, fearing that they might say something that would trigger a memory. He tried to work on his homework instead, or read, or work on his mental shield. But he couldn't concentrate. At home, when he was alone, he could visualize the granite cave well enough now that it seemed tangible. He needed only to close his eyes for a moment before it appeared. But he still couldn't visualize the sensation of security and peace that the real cave gave him, and he couldn't visualize a tangible cave at all at school, or around the Circle, or around his father.

And he knew that even the outsiders could see his fear. He broke into a cold sweat, and his heart started pounding so loudly that he was sure everyone could hear it, just walking through the crowded hallways from one class to the next. He couldn't stop himself from startling every time a locker slammed or a door shut, a bell rang, or a person stepped out from behind a door or around a corner. And he couldn't stop himself from cringing away from every person who approached him or passed him from behind.

He didn't go to physics class. After lunch period ended and the halls emptied, he got on his bike and rode. He didn't know or care where he went – he just rode.

Sean realized with a start that he was on a rural road he didn't recognize. The sun was low on the horizon; it was nearly dark – and he hadn't put the lights on his bike. He stopped and opened his backpack. The lights weren't inside. _Stupid. Real stupid. _

He turned back the way he had come and rode to the east. The road passed several open fields and entered a wooded area. The moon hadn't risen yet, and it was almost too dark to see. It was getting colder, too. Even with his coat and gloves and the exercise, he was already shivering, and his hands were numb. He called on Fire, picturing the comfort of a warm fire burning steadily in a fireplace, drawing its heat inside his body. The heat warmed him – but only for a few minutes. He tried again, and again the warmth dissipated almost as soon as it arrived.

He was almost completely burnt out. He hadn't even brought any water with him, or anything to eat, to replenish his energy. He could try to ground himself, and call on Earth for its energy, but he doubted he'd be any more successful with that than he had been with Fire. He kept riding. After a long while, he saw lights ahead in the distance. He rode closer, and recognized the bridge between New Salem and the mainland. He crossed the bridge and rode through the town.

A motor broke the silence. Headlights lit the road. And brakes squealed. Doors were thrown open.

"What do you think you're doing out here?" Chris yelled. "Stop the bike! Get in the car!"

Sean shook his head and kept going.

The car accelerated past him and stopped again.

He tried to pull the brakes, but his numb fingers wouldn't cooperate.

Chris jumped out of the car and grabbed the handlebars, pulling the bike to a stop. "I told you to stop the bike!" he yelled. "Now get in the car!"

Sean cringed.

"Stop it, Chris," Laurel said.

Chris let go of the bike and stepped back, glaring at Sean.

"We've been looking all over for you," Laurel said. "Come on, get in the car. We need to get home and let the others know we found you."

Sean pulled his feet out of the straps and dismounted from the bike, holding the top tube for balance.

Laurel and Chris half dragged him into the car. Sean's eyes drifted shut. He hadn't realized how tired he was. The car started to move.

"Leave me 'lone," he mumbled when Laurel shook him awake.

"I'm sorry. I can't do that," she said. "You need to warm up before you can sleep. Drink this."

"Don't want to." His eyes were already closing again.

She shook his arm until he opened his eyes and looked blearily at her. She held the Thermos for him until he drank some of the hot liquid inside. Warmth spread through his body. He drank more. Soon his shivering stopped, and he slept.

* * *

Sunlight was streaming around the curtains in a western window when he awoke. His body ached, but he felt more rested than he had in quite a while. He was lying in someone's bed – the one in Miss Burke's guest room, he realized. Someone had left a tray beside the bed, with a Thermos, a teacup, and plates of fruit salad and pumpkin bread. Clothes were folded on the chair. His guitar stood in the corner near the desk.

Sean sat up, ate, and poured and drank a cup of tea. He walked down the hall, showered, got dressed. He wandered back to the guest room and picked up the guitar.

"Good afternoon," Miss Burke said from the doorway. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay." He watched her as she walked inside and started to gather the dishes. He felt himself flush. "I-I … I'm sorry. I can do that." He put down the guitar and reached for the cup.

Miss Burke smiled at him. "Thank you, but I've got it. Why don't you go into the parlor? Your Circle is coming over after school, and there's more room in there."

He nodded. He carried the guitar into the parlor, sat on a chair near the hearth, and started to play. His fingers were stiff and sore, and his playing was off. He kept playing anyway. His fingers slowly loosened up.

Footsteps approached.

Sean looked up from the guitar. The members of the Circle were filing into the room and finding seats on the chairs and sofas and on the brick of the hearth. Their faces were grim.

Sean swallowed. What on Earth had he done this time? He couldn't have – Black John – the dark energy – they couldn't have … come back? He couldn't have killed someone else?

He tried to remember what he had done over the last couple of days. But he was surrounded by too many people, too many accusing eyes. He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. He stared wildly around the circle, looking from one person to another without really meeting anyone's eyes, gasping for breath.

And then someone was talking. Laurel. "Leave him alone for a minute, you guys. Sean, calm down, will you? We're not going to hurt you."

The pressure of their gazes dissipated. Sean closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. After a couple of minutes, he opened his eyes and looked up.

"Wh-what … what happened?" he asked Laurel, who was sitting beside him. His voice was ragged. "What did I do … this time?"

She looked at him sideways. So did everyone else.

He looked away and stared into the fire.

"You don't … what _do_ you remember?" Laurel asked.

He bit his lip. "I … I know I killed Kori … and …"

"I mean, what do you remember doing _yesterday_," she interrupted. "Tuesday."

He hesitated. It hadn't been snowing; he'd ridden his bike to school. There had been too many people around, but there were always too many people around at school. He shrugged. "I, uh, I went to school. To class."

"No, you didn't." Suzan's voice was quiet. "You weren't in physics."

But he remembered going to physics … Ms. Murray talking about pendulums … the body swinging back and forth from the pipe …

_Don't think about that. _He closed his eyes, trying to visualizing the granite cave. The image of the body disappeared. And he remembered that he'd left before physics class, yesterday.

"Sean? Are you all right?" Cassie asked.

He opened his eyes and nodded.

"You didn't go to class on Tuesday," Diana said.

"Yes, I did."

"No, you didn't," Suzan said.

"I … you're right. I didn't go to physics."

"Or algebra," Chris said, scowling at him. "And you weren't at lunch. Nobody knew where you were. We couldn't find you anywhere. Not until after nine o'clock at night."

Sean stared at him blankly.

"Don't you remember?" Laurel asked. "Chris and Doug and I found you out by the mainland bridge, riding your bike – at night, without any lights – and it was negative five degrees outside!"

And then he remembered. The icy chill of the wind as he rode through the night. Hands and feet too numb to feel the brakes or the pedals. Riding in the dark, with no lights on the bike. And he remembered leaving school, riding away, and later realizing that it was almost dark and he didn't know where he was. And finally Chris and Laurel and Doug stopping him, dragging him into the twins' car. And then … well, he was at Miss Burke's house; they must have taken him there.

"Were you trying to kill yourself? Again?" Faye asked conversationally.

Sean stared at her, shocked. "No! I wasn't … I never …"

"Then what the hell were you doing?" Adam asked. "You weren't ready for a long ride. You didn't tell anyone where you were going or when you'd be back. You weren't dressed warmly enough for bicycling in subzero temperatures. You didn't have any food or water with you. You didn't even have any lights on your bike."

Sean looked away. "I … I don't know. I just … I couldn't go to physics. And I just rode."

"For nine hours?" Deborah asked dubiously.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just rode until it got dark. And then I turned around and came back."

"But why'd you ride that far in the first place?" Suzan asked. "It was freezing yesterday!"

"No, it wasn't. It wasn't that cold when I left. I … I guess I lost track of time. And I didn't know exactly where I was."

"It was less than twenty degrees all day!" Suzan said.

"Okay. Sean, you're … you're not riding safely," Diana said diplomatically. "You do realize that, don't you? I don't think you should ride your bike for a while."

"But I need to ride!" He stopped. He couldn't tell them why. He couldn't tell them that if he wasn't completely exhausted by the time he got home, he couldn't sleep, and then when he finally did drop off, the nightmares woke him within a couple of hours. And the more tired he was, the worse the memories seemed to be. "I … I … I have to go to school …" he said instead, hesitantly.

"We'll drive you to school," Diana said.

"No!" he glared at her, suddenly furious. "I'm riding my bike to school! I know I should have put the lights on, and paid attention to where I was going, and to the time, and come home sooner, and brought food and water and warmer clothes and gloves. I _know_ that! And next time I will bring that stuff with me. But I … I won't let you take my bike away from me."

His fury passed as suddenly as it had arrived. He looked around the circle nervously. To his surprise, Diana was hiding a smile. So was Laurel. Deborah was openly grinning at him. Nobody seemed angry anymore.

And they didn't take his bike away.

*** * ***

Sean didn't think he would have made it through the week if the Circle had taken his bike, if he hadn't been able to run every morning and ride to and from school every day. It was bad enough having the members of the Circle watching him, keeping an eye on him, accompanying him, yet again, everywhere he went – not just outside, but at school.

Suzan was waiting at the bike racks when Sean and Chris arrived at school the next day. She nodded at them and walked with Sean through the crowded halls to their English class. And she accompanied him to history class – and sat beside him. Even though she had algebra second period.

Sean scowled at her. "What are you doing?" he asked.

She looked up and smiled at him. "I'm drawing," she said. Then she returned to her drawing pad and continued shading the wing-feathers of an albatross soaring over a stormy sea.

He rolled his eyes, and turned to the front of the classroom. The teacher was asking a question about the causes of World War I. Sean turned away quickly. The last thing he needed was to listen to a discussion about assassinations. He pulled out his French homework and tried to ignore the teacher's and students' voices.

Someone accompanied him to each of his classes that day, and for the rest of the week. He felt the pressure of eyes on him from all around – both outsider and Circle – and Kori and Jeffrey and Mr. Fogle, too.

By the end of the week, he was exhausted. No matter how long he rode or how far and hard he ran during the day, he couldn't sleep. He just couldn't quiet his mind enough to relax; he kept seeing images of Kori and Mr. Fogle and Jeffrey, of hostile outsiders surrounding him at school, staring at him, wanting to burn him at the stake for being a Witch or lock him in jail for what he'd done to Kori and the others; images of the members of the Circle watching him, exasperated by his fears and weaknesses. And none of them left him alone even when he did manage to drop off to sleep – nightmares woke him every night, well before dawn.

* * *

Finally, the weekend arrived. It was unseasonably warm. Sean kept himself busy, trying to forget about the last week of school. He went for a run with Laurel, Melanie, Nick, Adam, and Raj. He finished his chores around the house. He helped Suzan clean the pasture and stalls and joined her for a trail ride after they finished. Suzan rode the spirited Arabian, Inara, skillfully, keeping the mare at a walk. Sean followed on the easy-going Connemara, Lochlan. Raj trotted along behind them.

They rode along the trail without speaking. Sean relaxed, calmed by the steady presence of the placid pony and by the peacefulness of the woods surrounding him. He watched the squirrels scurry about, searching for pine nuts amidst the fallen needles. He listened to the chickadees, and to the jays, and to the lone woodpecker drumming on a tree. He watched Lochlan's ears turn alertly from side to side as the pony listened, calmly and curiously, to every sound. He watched the spirited mare prance in front of him. He watched Suzan ride, unfazed by Inara's snorts and jumps and half-hearted bucks.

After they had traveled a few miles, Inara settled down, walking with a quick, long stride. Suzan let her break into a trot as they rode through the woods. Lochlan followed willingly, trotting quickly as he tried to keep up with the longer-legged mare.

Inara moved into a steady canter as they reached the meadow and the trail widened. Sean didn't need to urge the pony to follow; Lochlan eagerly sped up to a full gallop to catch up with the faster horse. Raj galloped alongside the pony, excited about the race. Sean slowed the pony to a canter as they caught up to Suzan and the mare near the far side of the meadow. They slowed to a trot as the trail narrowed and entered another wooded area.

When they reached the steep descent on the far side of the hill, even Inara was willing to slow to a walk. They remained at a walk as they returned home, following a path along the top of the bluff, allowing the horse and pony to cool down. By the time he and Suzan had untacked and groomed the horse and pony, checked their water buckets, and fed them their evening rations of hay, carrots, and grain, Sean was ready to tackle the homework he'd put off earlier that week. He thanked Suzan for letting him ride the pony and walked home, for once not feeling the need to run. Raj trotted along, and then galloped home to Adam's house after Sean went inside his own house. Sean grabbed his backpack and looked out the den window; he didn't see anyone waiting for him. He walked outside to the playhouse, and sat at the desk to work. He took out his algebra text and paper, and worked until the light dimmed.

There was an oil lamp on one of the shelves. Sean took a book of matches out of the desk drawer and lit the wick, adjusting it so the light burned steadily, neither too bright nor too dim. He turned back to his homework, and laughed. He'd forgotten to look at what the assignment actually was – he'd already finished the problems from the last three chapters of the book. Only the practice tests remained. He shrugged. He might as well finish those, too. He returned to the textbook and worked through the practice tests, checking his answers with the key at the back of the book. His smile was bitter when he finished. Practice tests were easy enough, but they didn't count for anything.

It was getting cold in the unheated structure, too cold to write. Sean stretched out his cramped fingers. He put away his textbook, paper, and pencil, grabbed his backpack, blew out the lamp, and walked outside.

Someone was there – Sean could feel their hatred and anger. He froze. He couldn't hear anything but the wind whistling softly through the trees, and he couldn't see anyone nearby. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but he saw no one. He put the backpack inside the playhouse, pulled the door shut, and slowly, one step at a time, looking carefully all around him, walked down the path toward the house. He stopped before the end of the path, remaining hidden by the trees and shrubbery, and looked toward the road.

There it was – a strange car parked across the street on Crowhaven Road, almost hidden by darkness and the overhanging branches of a big maple. Sean couldn't see, from where he stood, whether or not anyone was inside the car, watching the road and his house or Suzan's. If the outsiders were still in the car, he knew that he could reach the safety of his house before they could get to him. But if they were out of the car, hidden somewhere in the yard …

Sean hesitated. When the witch hunters had gone after Cassie, they had waited for her just outside the door of her house. From where he stood, he couldn't see the front door of his house; he couldn't see whether or not anyone was on the porch. Suzan's house was only an indistinct shape, obscured by trees, from where he stood; someone could as easily be hiding there.

But no one could be hiding outside Adam's house; Raj would let Adam and Mrs. Franklin know if anyone came into their yard. If Sean could get to Adam's house, Adam could call Suzan and the others to warn them.

Silently, Sean walked back the way he had come. He passed the playhouse and crept along the overgrown path to the wall at the far end of the garden. He stopped, looking around and listening for any sign that he was being watched. He saw and heard no one, but he could still feel the oppressive presence. He ran toward the wall, vaulted over, and crouched down on the far side at its base, listening.

No footsteps sounded. No voices. He still couldn't see anyone. Slowly, he made his way toward Suzan's house, keeping to the shadows and shrubs as much as possible. He reached her house, and still saw no one.

Sean passed Suzan's house and made his way toward Adam's. He neared the hedge surrounding Adam's garden, and broke into a run. He jumped over the hedge, raced around the house and sprinted to the porch.

No one followed.

Raj barked, somewhere inside the house. A light went on. Sean rang the bell and turned away from the door. Motion on the far side of the yard caught his eye; a figure dressed in dark colors jumped out from its hiding place behind the forsythias near Suzan's front door. The figure hesitated for a moment, looking in Sean's direction, and raced away toward the car – just as the car's motor roared to life.

The door opened behind him. Raj darted outside and stopped at the edge of the porch, standing protectively in front of Sean with his hackles raised, growling softly as he watched the figure run to the passenger side of the car and climb in. The door shut, and the car roared away.

"Come on inside," Adam said quietly.

Raj obeyed. Sean followed him, and Adam shut and bolted the door. Raj raced to the nearest window and stood, with his front paws on the sill, looking out.

"What happened?" Adam asked. He gestured to a chair, and sat in another.

"Nothing, really," Sean said. He ignored the proffered chair, and paced nervously from one window to another, looking out into the darkness of the empty yard. "I was inside the playhouse, and I felt someone nearby when I stepped outside. It wasn't one of us. I saw the car, but I couldn't see whether or not anyone was in the car. And I couldn't see if anyone was hiding outside my house or Suzan's. So I came here."

Adam nodded. "Raj would've let me know if anyone had come close to my house."

"I know."

"How many did you see? I only saw the one."

"So did I. But I didn't get a good look. And I didn't see the driver. And I don't know if anyone stayed behind when they left. Um, could you call Suzan and Cassie and everybody and warn them? Please?"

Adam nodded again. "Of course. Stay here for now. Have a seat, if you want. Raj and I will drive you home after I call."

"Okay. Thanks," Sean said.

"No problem." Adam jumped up ran to the kitchen.

Sean sank into a chair and waited – for a few seconds. He jumped up and raced to the nearest window and looked out. He didn't see anyone. The outsiders in the car were probably far away by now – but maybe they weren't.

Adam was calling the others; Sean could hear a word here and there. He turned away from the window when Adam returned. "I guess telling us we're not welcome at school isn't enough anymore," he said.

"No. Somebody's out to get us, now." Adam's face was grim. "But we still don't know _who_. Or how many there are. Or what exactly they're planning to do."


	12. Chapter 12

**The Secret Circle: **

**Out of the Darkness**

The Secret Circle and its characters aren't mine – they belong to L. J. Smith and HarperCollins Publishers.

**Chapter Twelve**

The next morning, Melanie and Laurel handed out small cloth pouches to all of the Circle members. "For protection from the witch hunters," Laurel said as she gave a blue cotton pouch to Sean.

"Thank you," he said. He opened the pouch and looked inside. He felt the blood drain from his face as he flung it away. There was no way that he going to wear a crystal. Or carry one. Not after what happened before.

Laurel looked at him oddly.

"I-I-I ..." he stopped and shook his head. He picked up the pouch and handed it to Laurel. "I'm sorry. But I can't."

Laurel looked confused, but she took the pouch from him.

Melanie nodded in understanding. She took the pouch from Laurel, reached in, and took out the amethyst crystal. "Just the herbs, then," she said, handing the pouch back to Sean.

He hesitated, and accepted it. "Okay," he said. He pulled the cord over his neck and tucked the pouch under his shirt.

* * *

The new principal, Mrs. Jackson, started school that day with an assembly. Her introduction was very different than Mr. Brunswick's had been. Her voice was equally courteous, but cheerful and enthusiastic rather than powerful and austere. Her introductory speech was an optimistic recitation of her hopes for the future – for the students, for herself, and for New Salem High School. She spoke of expectations, but referred not to blind obedience to the rules, but instead to her hope that each student would put forth his or her best effort not only to succeed academically, but also to treat others with respect, patience, and tolerance; that each student would do his or her part to ensure that the troubles that had plagued the school over the last few months would soon end.

"They're not going to listen to her," Deborah said grimly after the principal dismissed everyone to return to class.

Sean knew that she was right. The cloud of fear and hatred that permeated the auditorium had not dissipated during the principal's speech. Nor had the pressure of hostile eyes upon him and the other members of the Club lessened.

He tried to retreat into the shadows, to remain unnoticed, as he usually did, but without much success. More than once, Sean caught someone's eyes, glaring at him or watching him nervously.

Outsiders had looked at him that way before, but not often. Sean had never understood it. He had never thought of himself as dangerous – not like Faye. _She _had power over people's minds, and over fire – and she wasn't afraid to use her power. Nick, Doug, and Deborah could be dangerous, too. So could Chris, despite his usual friendly, mischievous-yet-harmless demeanor. Sean didn't know if it was a power or not, but Chris and Doug could look at just about anything and find an unusual or dangerous use for it, whether they were making bombs from pipes and match heads and whatever else they used, or Rollerblading down the stairs, or using the walls as a ladder to get up to the school roof.

Sean had never used his powers against anyone – not even against the outsiders who used to tease him and shove him around, before they really understood what the Club was – as if he were just another small, shy, high-strung outsider boy. But he wasn't. Nor was he just a boy who could connect with Nature in some ways. He _was_ dangerous. As dangerous as Faye – worse. He had killed people. He still didn't really know how – just that the voice inside his mind had somehow controlled him. He knew that could never kill anyone by himself, but if he could be influenced once – three times, really – he could be influenced again. He had been working on his mental shield, and his ability to visualize it had improved since his first attempt, but he still had a long way to go. He knew that he would have to be able to visualize the mental shield at any time, no matter what he was doing and no matter who was around, or it would do no good. And perhaps the outsiders' fears would be justified.

He couldn't let that happen.

As soon as he got home and locked his bike in the garage, he raced upstairs to his room and shut the door. He sat on the bed and visualized the rock cave, trying to make it as solid, as strong, as secure as possible.

By the time the sky darkened, he could feel the difference. The granite of the cave seemed real – hard, rough, red-brown stone – and he was beginning to sense the same feeling of security he felt, eventually, when he sat in the real cave.

* * *

In his dream he was standing at the front of the school, at the meeting place by the granite outcrop near the summit. He was talking with Kori, wishing her a happy birthday and congratulating her on her upcoming initiation. She was smiling at him, talking enthusiastically.

Sean wasn't listening. He had to tell her … something. She had to leave. It wasn't safe for her there. He didn't know why. His mind was foggy, clouded by a presence, a pressure that had insinuated itself inside.

_Push her._

He tried to tell Kori to run, to get away from him, but he couldn't make a sound. He stared at her in horror as his hand reached out and pushed her. She caught her balance. He pushed her again. She stared at him, confused – and fell.

Sean wanted to reach out, to catch her, but he couldn't move. And he couldn't look away. He watched her fall. She stopped screaming. She didn't move. And he knew she was dead. "Nooo!" he yelled.

He opened his eyes and sat up. He was at home, in his own room. It was almost completely dark, lit only by the waning crescent moon low on the horizon. He was far from the front of the school, where he'd –

_No. _He closed his eyes again. _The cave. Focus on the cave_, he told himself. And he saw, in his mind's eye, the red-brown granite; felt its rough texture; smelled the woodsy scent of moss and moisture; sensed the quietness and solitude of the cave, away from the chaos of classes and students – and the memories receded. For the time being.

A knock sounded.

Sean jumped, staring wildly around the room.

"Sean? You okay?" It was his father's voice, from behind the door.

He couldn't answer. He closed his eyes, trying once again to ground himself by visualizing the cave.

"Sean! Answer me!"

Sean opened his eyes. The door was opening. Mr. Dulany stepped inside. "You okay?" he asked.

Sean nodded. "Yeah … yes. I'm sorry. I … I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't asleep. I thought I heard you yell …"

"I'm sorry. I, uh, I … it was just a dream. I'm sorry."

"Okay. Well, I'll see you tomorrow. I'm working a double shift at the hospital. I'm on my way out now."

"Okay. Um, have a good day."

"You too." His father left the room, shutting the door carefully behind him. His footsteps receded down the hall.


	13. Chapter 13

**The Secret Circle: **

**Out of the Darkness**

The Secret Circle and its characters aren't mine – they belong to L. J. Smith and HarperCollins Publishers.

**Chapter Thirteen**

The miasma of hatred and fear that had permeated the school over the last few weeks was, if anything, stronger the next day; Sean could feel it even outside, at the bike racks. He could tell from Cassie's and Adam's expressions that they felt it, too. Sean locked his bike and helmet and turned toward the gate, just as the first bell rang.

A group of outsiders stood in front of the gate. Their expressions were not friendly. They stood, watching the three Club members. Waiting.

Adam stepped forward menacingly.

Cassie put her hand on his arm. She shook her head, slightly, when he looked at her. She turned to the outsiders. "Excuse me. Will you let us pass?"

One of the outsiders laughed. "No," he said.

Sean glanced around. No one else was around.

The second bell rang. The outsiders ignored it. Slowly, they approached the Club members, walking side by side.

"No fighting," Cassie said firmly to Adam, trying to drag him away.

Sean turned to Cassie. "I don't think they can catch us if we go over the fence," he said quietly. "Not before we get inside the school."

Adam scowled.

"If we start a fight, they win," Cassie said. "They'll have an excuse to come after us. Sean's right. Come with me." She backed slowly away. Sean walked with her. Adam hesitated for a moment, and followed them. As soon as they reached the next aisle between the rows of bicycles, Cassie turned and sprinted straight for the fence and climbed over. Sean and Adam were right behind her. Both boys easily vaulted the tall fence. The three of them sprinted for the door. No footsteps followed them. Sean glanced over his shoulder. The outsiders were pointedly ignoring the Club members and walking back toward the gate; they knew their prey had escaped.

Adam opened the door. Cassie and Sean followed him inside. They raced together through the empty hall to the humanities wing. No one followed them. Adam nodded to Cassie and Sean and turned for the science wing. Sean walked with Cassie to the door of her writing class.

She smiled at him, and went inside.

Sean walked to the door of his English classroom and peeked in the window. He was too late – class had already started. Mr. Harrison was standing in front of the chalkboard, gesturing enthusiastically as he talked. Sean stood there, indecisively, for a long moment. But he couldn't bring himself to go inside, where everyone would stare at him if he walked in late. He ducked his head and raced past the door and down the hall to the library. He pulled out his physics text and read the next chapter: a rather biased introduction to atomic and nuclear physics. _I've got to show this to Laurel, _Sean thought when he read the author's assertion that nuclear energy, as a source of electricity, is both safe and environmentally sound – and can help end global warming._ She'll probably write a 300-page epistle refuting it _– _and not only send it to the author, publisher, and probably everyone else involved in making the text; she'll give it to all of the physics teachers who use this text, and then she'll start a petition to send –_

The bell rang, and Sean put his textbook away and hurried through the halls to his next class. No one stopped him. He didn't see the outsiders who'd been at the bike racks that morning. He walked inside the classroom – and froze. A tall man Sean didn't recognize sat at the desk – a substitute teacher. He would take roll. And he would ask questions – and he would call on students – _all_ of the students.

Sean backed out of the classroom, almost running into Deborah in his haste. "Sorry," he mumbled. And he ran.

The temperature outside hadn't risen much in the last few hours. Shivering, Sean put on his coat as soon as he reached the little cave behind the school.

"What are you doing?" a voice asked from behind him.

Sean started and whirled around. Deborah was standing beside the entrance to the cave, scowling at him.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked again, impatiently.

"I … I … uh, nothing. Homework." He sat in front of the cave, in a patch of sunlight, and pulled out his French workbook, showing it to her.

She rolled her eyes. "What's the point of ditching class if you're just going to do homework anyway? That's stupid."

He shrugged. "I didn't want to go to class –"

"Why, 'cause there's a sub?"

He felt himself flush. "Yes," he admitted. "And I don't want to do homework tonight, so I'm doing it now instead."

Deborah shrugged, obviously losing interest in their argument. "Fine," she said. She sat on the rock beside him.

Sean stared at her. "Deborah, you don't have to …"

"Play guard?"

He nodded.

She grinned. "It beats French class. Besides, you may actually have a good idea there – you know, skipping class to get out of having to do homework at night."

He returned her grin. "But it's not a good enough idea that you're actually going to try it."

She looked at him, and took her own workbook out of her backpack. "Sure I will," she said.

* * *

Sleep eluded him that night. He'd finished his homework and the novel he'd been reading; he'd played guitar until his fingers rebelled; and still he lay awake. It was nearly dawn when he finally drifted off to sleep.

In his dream, he was standing within the quartz circle on Adam's floor. The Circle was surrounding him, watching him with cold and angry eyes.

"You killed Jeffrey," Faye said petulantly.

"You _betrayed_ us," said Laurel. "You told Black John _everything_."

The voices went on and on.

"You're a coward," someone said.

"A wimp."

"Useless."

"An empty vessel."

"Just a baby."

"A murderer."

And the voices stopped. Chris stepped forward and stared at Sean with haunted eyes. "You killed Kori," he said.

Doug stepped up beside his twin. "You pushed her down the hill."

And the Circle and the circle of quartz on the floor were gone. The floor was gone. The house was gone. Sean was standing at the top of the hill, looking down. A figure lay there, nearly hidden by the shrubbery, but Sean could see its blond hair, its bright red sweater, its blue jeans.

Kori opened her eyes and stared at him with her vacant eyes. "Why, Sean? Why did you hurt me?" she asked.

He shook his head, mutely – and opened his eyes, desperately trying to see through the darkness enfolding him. He tried to sit up; something grabbed at his arms and chest. He tried to scream, but he couldn't make a sound. Belatedly he realized that it was only a sheet and blankets entangling him. He pulled them off and flung them away. He sat there, shaking, trying to catch his breath. It seemed like an eternity before his breathing slowed and steadied, and his panic started to fade.

* * *

Snow was swirling outside the window when Sean looked outside. Everything was white and grey and black. He wouldn't be able to see ten feet in front of him if he went running – or if he rode his bike – but he needed to do _something_. He went downstairs and worked out on the home gym. By the time he finished exercising, he felt almost calm. He walked back upstairs to get ready for school.

His father was in the kitchen when he went down for breakfast, a newspaper spread out beside his bowl. "Good morning," he said, looking up from the paper. "There's oatmeal on the stove, if you want some."

"Thanks." Sean ate silently and washed the dishes after they'd finished. He looked out the kitchen window. It was still snowing, but not as hard. The sky was beginning to lighten, but the sun hadn't yet risen. He glanced at the grandfather clock in the parlor – 6:23. He walked upstairs. He pulled out his guitar and played for a few minutes before gathering his things for school.

Both of his bicycles were locked to the rack in the garage. Sean frowned, wondering who had locked them. He shrugged. Someone was going to be short two locks. He picked up a hacksaw and cut off the locks.

Cassie pulled into his driveway just as he was taking his mountain bike out of the garage. "Are you crazy?" she asked. "It's snowing!"

"Hence the mountain bike," he said.

She looked confused.

"Uh, it … it's got wider tires and a deeper tread than the Bianchi – uh, my road bike – so it gets better traction in the snow." He'd forgotten she was from California – she'd probably never ridden in snow.

"Oh. Okay. But still ... it seems dangerous. I mean, nobody's going to expect a bicycle to be out in this weather – drivers won't be looking for you. They might not see you. And it's freezing outside."

He shrugged. "It's not that bad. And I've got lights on."

She looked at the dark bike quizzically.

"On the bike. Not … they're not turned on yet." He pressed the buttons and grinned at her. "Now they're turned on."

She smiled. "I see. But it might start snowing again – then no one will be able to see you even with the lights."

Sean looked at the clouds and shook his head. "It won't. Not hard, anyway. Not until after school gets out."

She looked at him oddly. "Well, you don't need to ride your bike in this weather – I can give you a ride."

He shook his head. "No. Thank you. I … I need to ride. I'll, uh, I'll see you at school." He shut the garage door and mounted the bike.

She hesitated.

"I've ridden in snow before," he said. "I'll be fine."

Cassie shrugged. "Okay. I'll see you later. But be careful, will you?"

He nodded, and pedaled across the snowy drive, turning carefully onto the plowed lane in the middle of the street. He pulled off into Suzan's drive to let Cassie pass; she motioned him to go ahead. Sean shrugged, and pedaled down the street until he reached the trailhead. He turned onto the trail without looking back at Cassie. Slowly, he rode up the steep, snowy path; he sped up as the path leveled out. A deer bounded across his path, and away. He stopped, watching her. She paused at the edge of the meadow, her ears swiveling around. She turned, skirting the open meadow, and disappeared among the sumac and maple on the far side of the meadow.

Sean rode on, following the trail downhill. A tree had fallen across the path; he angled the bike toward the base of the trunk, where there were no branches, and bunnyhopped over. The bike wobbled a bit as he landed, and then steadied. He turned back and tried again. This time, the bike remained steady. Grinning, he turned around, hopped over the tree one more time, and rode on down the trail.

* * *

Cassie was waiting just inside the entrance with Faye and Suzan. "Hey! How was your ride?" she asked.

"It was great! I hadn't ridden on the trail in ages, and it's – well, its not as fast as the road – riding on the trail, you know – but it's so _quiet _– no cars – and I saw a doe – she crossed the path right in front of me. And there was only one tree blocking the path, a little one, not too big to jump over." He stopped, blushing; all three girls were staring at him.

Cassie grinned. "You'll have to show me sometime. I've never ridden on a trail in the snow – there just isn't a whole lot of snow in Reseda."

Sean nodded. "Okay. But you'll need a mountain bike for that trail. Part of it's too steep and slippery in the snow for a road bike."

She nodded.

The bell rang.

Sean startled. He glanced at the girls out of the corner of his eye; if they had noticed, none of them said anything.

"I … I'll see you later," he said.

Cassie nodded.

"I'll come with you," Suzan said. They walked down the crowded halls to their English class and sat down in the back row. Suzan pulled out a drawing pad and pencils and started adding shingles to the roof of the log cabin she had drawn, nestled in a hollow, surrounded by snow-covered mountains.

"Good morning," Mr. Harrison said. "Today we'll be writing essays about the novel we've been discussing. You may choose any topic you'd like – so long as you write at least two full pages, typed and double-spaced. They will be due on Monday. I've written a few options on the board."

Sean looked at the choices. The first one was easy – _Write about your favorite – or your least favorite _–_ character. What do you like – or dislike – about this person? What makes him/her act as he/she does?_

He took out a piece of paper and started writing. Two outsider girls sitting a few desks away were discussing an upcoming trip to the mainland, stopping only when the teacher neared their desks. Other students were talking, too, and a woodpecker was drumming on a tree not far from the window. And the teacher was walking around the classroom, glancing at students' papers and encouraging several students to be more considerate of those who were trying to concentrate.

Despite the distractions, Sean had almost finished a rough draft by the time the bell rang. He glanced at Suzan's drawing pad; the roof was finished, and a Golden Retriever now lay on the cabin's porch, watching a blue jay and several chickadees at a bird feeder. Sean grinned, and put his notebook and pencil away.


	14. Chapter 14

**The Secret Circle: **

**Out of the Darkness**

The Secret Circle and its characters aren't mine – they belong to L. J. Smith and HarperCollins Publishers.

**Chapter Fourteen**

It was lunchtime. Sean was sitting in the back room, eating his lunch and half listening to Laurel, Diana, Cassie, and Melanie argue about which trees the environmental stewardship club should plant in front of the school. Adam was listening to their discussion. Doug and Chris were arguing about the supplies they needed for some project they were planning. Sean tried to ignore them; he didn't want to know what they planned to do with aluminum granules, potassium chlorate, sodium nitrate, and copper chloride. Faye and Suzan and Deborah were sitting at the other end of the table, talking quietly about something.

The door opened.

"Get out." The voice was low and menacing. A tall boy wearing a Letterman jacket stepped inside, scowling, followed by two other boys and a girl.

The members of the Club stared silently at the outsiders. Nobody moved.

"Get out now – or we'll make you," the first boy said.

"Will you?" Faye asked, her eyebrows raised inquisitively. "How interesting."

"Yes. We will," the tall boy said. "We won't be treated like second-class citizens by witch scum like you. Get out, I said!" He stepped inside the back room.

Faye's eyes blazed in fury. "You despicable outsider!" she said. "_You_ get out! This is _our_ school – it's _our_ town." She stalked around the table and across the room to stand in front of the trio at the door. Her glowing golden eyes didn't leave the tall outsider – and her expression was murderous.

_Uh oh_. Sean didn't know what she was planning, but he knew that it couldn't be good. Somebody had to stop her – but nobody was moving. Nobody was saying anything.

Nobody had stopped _him_ when Black John and the dark energy had controlled him – and people had died. He couldn't let that happen again. He couldn't stop _Faye_ – he knew that. But he had to do something.

"Um, you could … why don't you eat here tomorrow, instead?" he asked the outsiders.

The tall boy looked down at him. "Shut up, shrimp."

Sean rolled his eyes.

Diana spoke up. "Sean's suggestion is fair," she said. "We will finish our lunch here today. You may sit here tomorrow. We'll find someplace else." Her gaze was steady as she looked at the tall outsider.

"Are you _crazy_?" Faye asked furiously. "This is our room." Her words were directed to Diana, but she didn't look away from the outsider.

Neither did Diana.

The outsider's gaze was wavering uncertainly between Diana's calm, courteous gaze and Faye's murderous glare.

"Faye, it … it's just a _room_," Sean said. "A lunch-room in a high school cafeteria. You'll be graduating in five months! It's not worth it."

The glow slowly faded from Faye's eyes. An odd look crossed her face for just a moment as she looked at Sean. She hesitated, looking from the Circle members to the outsiders still standing in the doorway, and back. Finally she nodded. "All right. I won't … do anything to them. This time." She glared at the tall outsider for another moment and turned her back on them.

"Go ahead and find another place to eat today," Diana said. "We will find another place tomorrow." She waited, still watching the outsider.

"No. You've had your turn. Now it's ours."

Sean looked up, suddenly noticing how quiet the cafeteria had become.

"Is there a problem?" the new principal's alto voice rang out clearly from where she stood behind the group of outsiders who surrounded the door to the back room.

"Yes. These … people … are sitting in the back room. They always sit there. The rest of us want a turn, too," the outsider said. He was head and shoulders taller than the principal, and outweighed her by well over a hundred pounds, yet his previously low, menacing voice was nearly a whine.

"We've promised that we'll find another place to eat tomorrow, ma'am," Diana told Mrs. Jackson politely.

Mrs. Jackson gazed intently at each member of the Circle. No one said anything. She turned to the outsiders. "I am sure you students are quite capable of working this out on your own," she said to the tall outsider. She waited.

He looked away first. He turned to Diana. "Okay. You win. You can eat here today. But if you're here tomorrow …"

The threat in his tone was unmistakable, but Diana ignored it. "We will find someplace else tomorrow," she said firmly. "I give you my word."

The tall outsider turned and walked away. The other three followed. But they did not look happy about it. And the looks they gave the members of the Club were … not friendly.

Diana thanked the new principal politely.

Mrs. Jackson nodded. "You're quite welcome." She opened her mouth to say something else, and stopped. She looked at the Circle members once more, as if she were memorizing their faces. "Good day," she said. She turned and walked away.

Sean knew, without a doubt, that she would be in the cafeteria at lunchtime the next day. And she would remember who had been sitting in the back room, and who had stood outside.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Deborah asked, glaring at Sean and Diana. "We could have taken them, and you just gave in to them."

"We didn't give in; we made a compromise," Cassie said, glancing at Sean and smiling at him. Her smile was genuine – not the "I'm being polite because it's the right thing to do" smile she usually gave him.

He returned her smile.

"We avoided trouble – with the outsiders and with the new principal," Adam said. "Which is exactly what we should have done."

Deborah, Doug, Faye, Suzan, Cassie, and Diana broke into argument. Had they given in? Was the Club entitled to special privileges? Even if it wasn't, should they have refused to allow the outsiders to sit in the back room on principle, because of how they'd asked? Or should the Club instead go out of their way to accommodate the outsiders' wishes, as a way of atoning for the way many of the Club members had treated the outsiders for so long?

They were still arguing when the bell rang. Grudgingly, Faye and the others agreed to honor Diana's promise to find another place to eat lunch the next day, leaving the room for the outsiders.

* * *

Once again, outsiders and Circle members seemed to be waiting for something to happen. No outsider was directly confronting any member of the Club; even the insults had come to an end, at least for the time being. But when Sean looked up from the cafeteria table where he, Suzan, and the Hendersons were eating, he couldn't help but flinch at the pure hatred he saw in the glances of the outsiders who had confronted the Club in the back room.

The outsiders were waiting, but they wouldn't wait for long.


	15. Chapter 15

**The Secret Circle: **

**Out of the Darkness**

The Secret Circle and its characters aren't mine – they belong to L. J. Smith and HarperCollins Publishers.

**Chapter Fifteen**

It was February 1: both the anniversary of the fight between the Crowhaven parents and Black John and the cross-quarter holiday of Imbolc. The snow had finally melted from the road, if not from the surrounding countryside, and Sean took out his Bianchi for the first time in almost a week. The morning was warm, for late January, and Sean rode quickly down Crowhaven Road and onto Marsh Street. The calls of gulls broke the quiet of the morning. A motor revved; a vehicle approached from behind. A cold chill swept over him, despite the still morning air. He glanced over his shoulder. An old tan and brown pickup truck was close behind him.

Sean stood on the pedals and accelerated. The pickup sped up, too – but it didn't pass. It maintained its distance. What was it _doing? _If it was trying to scare him, it was succeeding. Sean kept going, past forest and fields. If he could just reach the intersection – there was a lot more traffic on Ridge Road. Surely the pickup would back off when other vehicles were around.

The slight uphill slope on his right gave way to a nearly vertical hill – and the truck drew closer. And closer. Sean steered the bike onto the shoulder of the road and looked over his shoulder again. The truck had pulled to the right, two or three hundred feet behind him. It wasn't slowing; it was accelerating. The driver wasn't just trying to scare him; he was going to hit him. And there was no place for him to go.

_Of course there is. It's a two-lane road. Don't panic. _Sean pulled out into the lane and shifted up to a bigger gear, pedaling furiously. The truck was less than a hundred feet behind him. Fifty. Forty. Twenty.

He jerked the handlebars to the right and turned sharply to the left, nearly lying the bike down on its side as he turned on the narrow road, narrowly avoiding the truck. He straightened the bike and pedaled as hard as he could in the opposite direction.

The truck's brakes squealed as it stopped.

Sean kept going. There was a trail entrance less than two miles away; he'd passed it not long ago – just before he noticed the truck behind him. He wasn't sure if the Bianchi could manage the steep path – not with the snow still covering it. But he didn't have much of a choice.

The truck had turned and was accelerating toward him again. Still more than a mile to go before he reached the trail. Sean glanced to the side. The woods sloped steeply uphill; granite broke the soil's surface in more than one place; no trail led between the trees. But he knew that a part of a trail paralleled the road – if he could get the bike up the hill, he would intersect it – and he could take the trail from there.

He looked over his shoulder. The truck was less than three hundred feet away.

Sean turned sharply to the left. He downshifted to the bike's lowest gear and headed up the steep hill, steadying the bike each time it slipped in a patch of snow, ducking under low branches and dodging around trees. He stopped when he reached the summit, trying to catch his breath, and peered around a massive oak. Two figures in winter coats were there at the bottom of the hill, looking up – and one was holding a gun.

He started pedaling again. There – the trail was just ahead, through the trees. Sean turned and rode down the nearly level path – one mile, two, three – not slowing until the grade steepened just before the trail intersected the road.

He stopped. A cardinal called, and was silent. A grey Honda drove past, followed by a black car. He rode down the hill and stopped again, listening. He heard the muted roar of distant motors, but nothing nearby. The driver of the pickup truck probably wouldn't come after him here, even if he knew where the trail intersected the road – it was too close to town.

But he might go after someone else.

The other Circle members would already be at school, or on their way. Unless the driver of the pickup truck – or someone else – had already caught someone. Laurel usually rode to school alone – so did Deborah, on her motorcycle.

Sean rode faster, sprinting up the hill. He didn't stop until he reached Faye and Suzan, who were standing outside the east entrance.

"Have … have you … seen … Laurel? And Deborah? And … Chris and Doug? … And Nick?" he asked between breaths. He jumped from the bike and locked it to the redbud nearest the entrance.

"It's 7:45, Sean," Faye said in her most condescending voice. "I would think Laurel would be in class right now. And I doubt the others are here yet."

"Why? What's wrong?" Suzan asked.

"A truck … tried to … run me over," Sean said. "I went up the hill … and I looked back … and there were two … people standing there … and one had a … a gun…"

Faye and Suzan looked at each other.

They didn't believe him.

"You probably imagined it," Faye said. "It's not as if drivers never pass too close to bicycles – and maybe you just thought you saw a gun."

"I didn't imagine it. And I'm not paranoid." He leaned against the wall, willing his legs, which were trembling from exhaustion, to support his weight for just a little longer.

Faye rolled her eyes. "Yes, Sean, you are," she said. "You're afraid of everybody at school. You get nervous when the bell rings."

He scowled at her. "I am _not _afraid of everybody at school. I … I just … they … there's just too many people around, that's all. I don't think everybody's trying to kill me or anything. But that truck … it came after me! It didn't just pass too close. It followed me for more than a mile, and then it pulled up behind me – on the shoulder. And-and-and … and it stopped and turned around and followed me when I turned and rode back the other way. And it stopped when I pulled off the road and rode up the hill –"

A muffled roar sounded as Deborah's motorcycle crested the hill. Deborah parked near the bike racks and strode up the hill, scowling furiously. She nodded shortly at them, threw open the door, and stalked inside. "Deb? What's wrong?" Suzan asked, following her inside.

"Some _people_," she began, fuming. "Just because they're driving a truck, they think they own the road," she said.

"What happened?" Faye asked sharply.

"This idiot in a pickup truck pulled right in front of me. He didn't even slow down at the stop sign. I had to throw on my brakes and call on Air to stop my bike in time – and even then I almost plowed in to him."

"Was … was … the truck, was it an old tan and brown Ford?" Sean asked. His voice was shaking.

"_What_?" Deborah stared at him. "How'd you know that?"

"It came after me, too. It tried to run me over," he said.

"Go get Laurel," Faye said to Sean, turning abruptly and striding down the hall. "We're meeting _now_ – in the back room." She stopped and looked back over her shoulder. "Suzan, go call everyone who's still at home, and the parents and the crones. Deb – let's go. We'll watch the parking lot and warn everyone when they get here."

Sean glanced through a classroom window at a clock – 7:58. Zero period wouldn't be out yet. He ran to the science wing on the far side of the building.

* * *

Faye, Deborah, and Nick strode through the door and joined the rest of the Circle around the table.

"The witch hunters – or somebody – are after us now," Faye said abruptly. "They're trying to get rid of us. Deb – tell them what happened."

She did. And then there was silence.

"They went after Sean, too," Faye said after a long moment.

And then the Circle members were looking at him; surrounding him. He was sitting alone, in the middle of a ring of quartz crystals. He couldn't get away – he'd already tried. They were too strong – there were too many of them. And they were telling him that he had –

"_Sean_!" A voice hissed in his ear.

He gasped and looked around. Deborah was watching him.

"Hey, you're okay," she muttered, quietly – for Deborah.

Sean nodded. He closed his eyes briefly, just long enough to picture himself safe, protected by his cave. When he opened his eyes, he was in the back room again. The Circle members were there, but they weren't staring at him angrily or accusing him of anything.

Faye glanced at Sean, and chuckled. But she didn't say anything about his obvious fear. And she told the others what he had told her and Suzan.

"So all we know is that it was two guys in a pickup truck?" Doug asked, looking intently at Deborah and at Sean. "We don't know who they were, or if they're working with anybody else?"

Deborah shrugged. "We don't even know if it was two _guys_. I didn't get a good look at either of them. I was kind of busy keeping my bike from crashing into them, okay?" Her voice was defensive, but when nobody commented, she continued. "There were two people. They were both dressed for the cold. They were wearing coats and ski caps. The truck was an old tan and brown Ford – nineteen eighty-something, probably."

"Sean?" Doug prompted.

"I … I … uh, yeah. She's right," Sean said. "I didn't get a good look at them either. And it … the truck … it, uh … yeah. It _was_ a nineteen eighty-something Ford." He stared intently at the table, trying to ignore the eyes watching him, and to picture the truck instead. "It had a silver thing in the back." He hesitated, and glanced at Nick. "You know, one of those big tool box things?"

Nick nodded.

"And … the bumper was dented – the front bumper. On the … on the right side. I think. And … and … the paint – there were some scratches in the paint. On the hood. And … and … uh, that's all."

"We should find out who owns 80s-model Ford pickups with tan and brown paint and mounted toolboxes," Adam said.

Nick snorted. "Jake Whitford has one, and Michael Connolly's dad, and Walt Benton. But I can't see any of them trying to run down a kid on a bike or a girl on a motorcycle."

"Neither can I," Diana said.

"The truck could've been from anywhere," Chris pointed out. "It might not be somebody from around here."

There was a long silence.

"If the outsiders – local or not – really are out to get us, then we've got to defend ourselves," Nick said.

There was a murmur of agreement.

"They could be trying to scare us off," Diana said. "They might not have intended to actually hurt anyone."

Deborah shook her head. "No. That driver was looking right at me when he pulled in front of me. I saw his eyes. He wanted me … hurt."

"We need to assume the worst," Adam said.

"And we have to stick together," Cassie said. She looked at Sean, and at Deborah and Nick. "You guys – could you _please_ not go off by yourselves – not even on a bike or a motorcycle? Just until we figure out how to stop whoever it is who's after us?"

"I'll … try. For a while," Nick said.

Deborah frowned, but she nodded. "We'd better figure out who it is soon," she muttered under her breath.

"Sean?" Cassie asked.

He looked away. She was right – sticking together was a sensible precaution. Running or riding off alone, with witch hunters after the Circle, would be a really, really stupid thing to do. But sometimes he couldn't help it. When the memories overwhelmed him and he panicked, he might run – and he wouldn't be thinking of waiting for someone to come with him.

"Sean! Are you even listening?" Deborah asked.

He jumped and looked up at her. "I-I … yes." He looked away again. "I can't."

"What can't you do?" Cassie asked. She sounded confused.

"I can't promise to not ride my bike. Or run."

"Nobody's asking you to. We're just asking you to promise not to ride your bike or run alone."

"You can ride with me," Laurel said. "If you don't mind going to school early."

"Two bikes against a truck isn't any better odds than one," Nick said.

"And it misses the point," Faye said coldly. "We need to do whatever it takes to find out who is after us – and we need to stop them. _Now_."

"How?" Suzan asked. "We can't exactly summon the spirit of whoever's after us and ask them questions like we did with Black John on Halloween. _He's_ gone, and these people are outsiders – and they're not spirits. I mean, they're alive. Besides, we didn't really learn anything on Halloween."

"We could try a Tarot reading," Laurel suggested hesitantly.

Sean shuddered, remembering his last reading, but he didn't say anything.

"Sure, Laurel – and we'll learn that Death and the King and Queen of Pickup Trucks are after us – and that we need to be courageous, stick together, and stand up for our rights," Faye said. "That'll be real helpful."

Suzan chuckled.

"Do you have a better idea?" Laurel asked calmly.

Faye scowled. "No," she admitted. "Just that we should ride home together after school and do whatever we need to do to find out who's after us. With the Master Tools to help us."

There was a murmur of assent from the Circle members, and the meeting broke up.

* * *

The entire Circle met at the parking lot after school, picked up Sean's and Laurel's bicycles and Deborah's motorcycle, and drove home as a group, with the bikes strapped to the rack on the back of the twins' Suzuki, and Deborah riding her motorcycle between Diana's Acura and Cassie's Volkswagen. They parked at Diana's house, and walked together to the beach, carrying baskets of food and of wood, ice chests, and Thermoses. Cassie, Faye, and Laurel built a small fire. Diana and Melanie placed a ring of candles around it.

"We'll start with a ceremony in honor of Imbolc and in honor of our late parents," Faye said after the Circle gathered around. "Then we'll try to find out who's after us, and what we need to do to stop them."

Nobody objected.

Cassie cast the circle. Then she turned to Diana.

"I think we should … those of us who lost parents that night should invite our own parents to join us," Diana said.

"Except me," Cassie said.

Several people chuckled.

"Doug, Chris – you guys may invite Kori. Cassie, you may invite your grandma."

"What do you mean, invite them?" Sean asked nervously, thinking of the last Halloween, when they'd invited Black John to speak to them. It had been so dangerous that they'd needed to call on the Watchtowers and Powers of each direction to protect them – and even that hadn't been enough, not after Black John appeared in the fire at the center of their Circle, within the elemental rings of protection, and made Cassie reach for, and touch, his hand – a hand formed from the smoke of the fire.

"It won't be like before, with Black John," Diana assured him. "We're not calling on any malevolent entities. And we're not holding the ceremony in the cemetery or anywhere else filled with power. It'll be like a regular Samhain ceremony, when we invite our parents' and grandparents' and any other ancestors' spirits to join us for the festivities. And we'll ask them for their advice."

"Oh." That shouldn't be too bad. They'd had ceremonies like that ever since Diana, Adam, Melanie, and Faye had first started getting interested in witchcraft, and nothing bad had ever happened. They'd felt a presence, and a feeling of love and acceptance. And those who'd lost parents and wanted to tell them something had spoken to them as if they could hear – and perhaps they could.

"Today _isn't_ Samhain, though," Melanie pointed out. "We may not reach any of our ancestors. We might not even sense their presence if we do reach them."

"But we can try," Diana said. She turned to the candle in front of her and lit it. "Mom, you are welcome here in our Circle," she said simply.

"Mom, Dad, you are welcome here, in our Circle," Laurel said. She lit two candles. So did Adam. Suzan lit one candle as she called on her mother; Faye called on her father, lighting a candle for him without the benefit of a match. Melanie used a match to light a candle for each of her parents as she called on them. Chris and Doug looked at each other. Doug nodded; Chris lit a candle for Kori. Cassie lit a candle for Mrs. Howard.

Sean glanced at Nick, who was staring into the steady flames. His usually expressionless face looked … tense. Nervous.

The other members of the Circle were watching Sean and Nick; waiting, more or less patiently.

Sean closed his eyes to ground himself. "Mom, you are welcome here in our Circle," he said at last, striking a match with trembling fingers and lighting the candle in front of him. He blew out the match and set it beside the candle. A gentle breeze picked up in the still air, and was still once more. Sean smiled. "Hi," he whispered.

He opened his eyes and glanced at Nick, who gave him a wry smile and turned back to the flames.

"Mom, Dad, welcome," Nick said simply, lighting the candles in front of him and blowing out the match.

And then Cassie was speaking, telling the Circle – and their guests – what her grandma had told her and Deborah – letting their parents know that the Circle finally knew what they had done, what they had sacrificed, seventeen years ago.

Cassie finished speaking, and Diana spoke up, thanking her mom and all of the other parents for what they had done. The other Circle members – even Chris, Doug, and Deborah, who had lost no parent on that night, and Cassie, whose father's death was no loss – thanked them, too.

At last Diana was speaking again. "Mom, Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong, Mr. and Mrs. Quincey, Mr. and Mrs. Conant, Mrs. Whittier, Mr. Chamberlain, Mrs. Dulany, Mr. Glaser, Mrs. Burke-Glaser, Mrs. Howard, Kori – we thank you all for joining us tonight in our Circle. You are welcome to leave, if you must, or remain with us, if you wish, as we celebrate Imbolc – the first celebration of the spring yet to come."

"Winter is here," Faye spoke up. "The plants are dormant, the gardens are bare –"

"Except Laurel's," Deborah interrupted, grinning.

Laurel giggled. "And Sean's and Cassie's," she said.

Faye shot them a withering look. "The gardens are _relatively_ bare, in the sense that they are _relatively_ non-productive at this time of year," she said. "Our stores of produce and food are running low …" she paused, glancing at Deborah. "_Relatively_ low, with respect to the food gathered, stored, and prepared from our own gardens, and excluding food purchased from grocery stores."

Deborah laughed. So did Laurel and Suzan.

"Yet winter will soon end, and spring will arise," Faye said, glancing at Laurel.

Laurel grinned. "And the crocuses and daffodils and tulips and dandelions will bloom. The chives will come up, and the onions and garlic and all of the crops in the cold frames will begin new growth."

"And our parents will tell us to clean our rooms," Doug intoned solemnly.

"And the rest of the house," Chris added.

"The trees will begin to leaf out, and some will flower. The birds and frogs will start to sing. And Spring will be here." Diana hesitated after finishing the formal ceremonial words. "And maybe … maybe we will find a way to make peace at school and in town, among the outsiders. We haven't had a whole lot of success with that yet."

"That's an understatement," Deborah muttered.

"We're having success with the environmental club," Laurel reminded Diana. "Eleven outsiders have joined – and they're helping us with our preparations for improving the landscaping at the school. We've already ordered fourteen fruit trees – Asian and European pears, apples, and plums – and I've propagated four kinds of blueberries and three of gooseberries. They'll be ready for planting in a couple of months."

Diana nodded. "That's true. And maybe we'll manage to call a truce with the outsiders who still dislike us." She turned to Cassie.

Cassie spoke once more to the ancestors and Kori. She told them of the events of the last few months, and asked for their advice, and for any assistance they could give.

No one spoke. No shape appeared in the smoke or flames of the bonfire. No answer was given to Cassie's and the Circle's request.

After a long moment, Cassie spoke again. "Unless someone has something to add, let's close the circle," she said.

No one objected. Faye thanked the parents once more for their presence, and closed the circle. She and other Circle members left the bonfire and grabbed plates and silverware, baskets and ice chests filled with food, Thermoses and two-liter bottles of tea and soda that had been set aside until after the ceremony. They filled their plates and cups, talking and laughing while they ate.

Sean sat with the other Circle members, silently, uneasily. His apprehension grew. He couldn't focus on the others' conversation. He was terrified, and he didn't know why. He felt as if he were at school – as if hundreds of hostile eyes were watching him. It was all he could do to remain seated in the circle near the fire. He put his fork down, closed his eyes and grounded himself, visualizing the calm energy of stone; the safety of the cave. When he opened his eyes again, his mind had cleared and his panic had faded to a vague sense of disquiet. But he still felt as if he was being watched.

He glanced at Raj, who'd been lying beside Adam and Cassie, watching the Circle members eat and patiently awaiting his turn. The big dog was no longer looking at the food. He was standing, looking up at the bluffs, his hackles raised and lips drawn back into a snarl. Sean followed the dog's gaze. He caught a glimpse of firelight, reflected by the lenses of someone's glasses.


	16. Chapter 16

**The Secret Circle: **

**Out of the Darkness**

The Secret Circle and its characters aren't mine – they belong to L. J. Smith and HarperCollins Publishers.

**Chapter Sixteen**

"Somebody's watching us," Sean said.

Conversation ceased. The Circle members turned to stare at him.

"There," Sean said, nodding sharply toward the place where he'd seen the glasses.

The Circle members looked.

"Raj, wait by me," Adam said quietly. The dog trotted to his side and stood, still looking intently at the top of the bluffs.

And then Sean heard footsteps crunching over the gravel path leading to the steep steps carved long ago in the stone.

"Sean's right," Deborah said. "They're over there. By the steps."

The members of the Circle stood and faced the bluff. A bearded man Sean vaguely remembered seeing around town started walking down the steps, followed by a shorter man wearing a camouflage jacket and a blonde woman with glasses and a dark brown trench coat. More outsiders followed. Sean recognized many of them: the outsider students the Club had faced in the school cafeteria, other students from the high school, teachers from all three New Salem schools, the pastor of the big brick church near the library; people who worked at the markets and auto repair shop, at the post office and the restaurants. Even a nurse and a couple of doctors from the urgent care clinic were there.

"Good evening," Diana said politely as they approached. She stepped toward them, standing in front of the other members of the Circle. "May we help you with something?"

A tall, grey-haired man Sean remembered from elementary school, but whose name he had forgotten, stepped onto the beach and walked toward her, stopping a few feet away. "Yes. You – all of you – can leave New Salem. Witches are not welcome here anymore – not since you've started killing us."

Sean flinched. He looked down, staring intently at a tiny fragment of shell on the sand. Laurel glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. She stepped forward, joining Diana – and standing protectively in front of Sean. Chris, Doug, and Deborah joined her.

"I see," Diana said. Her smile faded. "I'm afraid we can't help you, then. We can't leave New Salem; it's our home. And we haven't killed anyone –"

"Yes. You did. You killed James Fogle – the principal at New Salem High. You killed his replacement, Jack Brunswick. You killed Jeffrey Lovejoy and Kori Henderson, two students at the high school."

"We did _not_!" Chris yelled. "Kori was our _sister_, you –"

Laurel elbowed him. He glanced at her, and stopped yelling.

"We didn't kill _anybody_," Laurel said flatly. "Even if we had, we never would have killed Kori. She was one of us."

But that wasn't entirely true. The Circle hadn't killed anyone but Black John – if they had killed him. But _Sean_ had. He had killed Mr. Fogle and Jeffrey and Kori and Black John. And he'd let Black John kill Mrs. Howard.

_Don't think about that. Not now!_ He looked up, glancing nervously at the Circle members surrounding him.

Diana was nodding, still watching the outsider. "We will not leave New Salem," she said firmly.

"Yeah," Doug said. "We, like, live here, you know?"

"Not anymore," someone said.

"We're giving you a choice – leave, or suffer the consequences."

"We aren't leaving."

"This is our home."

"You can't make us leave. You have no authority …"

A big man wearing a red ski coat laughed. "Of course we do. The _Bible _tells us 'thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.' It's very specific."

"It also says 'thou shalt not kill,'" Diana said quietly. "That's one of its Ten Commandments."

"That Commandment refers to _people_," the red-coated man said with a sneer.

The flames of the bonfire blazed as Adam stepped forward to face him. "Are you trying to say –"

He stopped when the man pulled a gun from under his coat and aimed it at Adam. Raj growled. "Hush," Adam said quietly. "Wait by me." The big dog fell silent, but he didn't relax his stance or look away from the man.

Two big outsider boys and a scornful-looking girl stepped forward to stand beside the red-coated man. One of the boys drew a pistol. A tall woman in a beige trench coat joined them. She, too, carried a pistol. She was followed by one of the outsider boys who'd confronted the Club members in the back room. The boy carried a shotgun. A small group of outsider men wearing camouflage and also carrying shotguns stepped forward.

They couldn't be serious – could they? Surely they didn't really want to _kill_ people, Witch or not. It didn't surprise Sean that many outsiders hated Witches, or that a few hated them enough to kill. But the whole group? Many of them had lived in New Salem all their lives. They'd never been friendly – not to him, anyway. But he'd never sensed hatred from most of them. He hadn't realized that they wanted him or the other Circle members dead.

Sean looked carefully at the outsiders standing behind the ones in front holding the firearms. A few held weapons of their own. Mr. Mather, the elderly man whose family owned and operated the island's sporting goods store, pointed a shotgun at Faye. A man in a business suit was watching the armed outsiders impatiently. He carried no weapon, but seemed pleased at the prospect of violence. So did some of the high school students standing nearby.

A bearded man who worked at the hardware store and the woman who owned the bakery across the street from it, three middle-aged women who taught at New Salem Middle School, several students from the boys' and girls' varsity basketball teams … more than half of the outsiders were just standing there, waiting to see what would happen. Some were staring uneasily at the people holding the guns.

Maybe nothing would happen. No one was moving. Even the man in the red coat was hesitating. Sean realized that the outsiders probably didn't want to kill anyone in front of so many witnesses. A few of them probably did want the Circle members, and their families, dead. Most probably just wanted them gone.

But New Salem was _their_ town. It had always belonged to the Witches of Crowhaven Road. Their ancestors founded it, built the earliest homes and businesses, provided a means of making a living for the outsiders who'd decided to settle here. They had every right to stay – and to stay without being threatened.

That wouldn't happen unless the Circle and the outsiders could make peace with each other – if not an agreement to fully accept each other, then at least a truce, an agreement to avoid violence.

But no one was moving. No one was saying anything. Everyone was on edge; the tension was almost palpable. _Anything_ could set someone off, and someone could get hurt. Or killed. Someone had to stop that from happening. _He_ had to stop that from happening. It would give him a chance to atone for what he had done before.

But he didn't know how. And he couldn't move. He just stood there, looking from one person to another.

It was Faye who broke the impasse. Her expression was eerily calm, except for the fury smoldering in her golden eyes, as she stalked toward the outsiders. "Get out of here," she said flatly. Her voice was as cold and hard as steel.

For a moment it seemed as if at least a few of the outsiders would obey her. But then the man in the red coat stepped toward Faye. "_You_ get out of here, Witch," he growled. He raised the gun, aiming it directly at Faye's head. A soft metallic click shattered the silence.

Faye's eyes started to glow, and she opened her mouth to speak.

For some reason, Sean found that he could move. He stepped in front of Faye, standing between her and the outsider. "Um, c-could … could you, uh, put your gun down? Please?" he stammered.

The outsider didn't even glance at Sean. He stood, glaring at Faye over Sean's head as if Sean weren't even there.

"Get out of my way, Sean," Faye said.

Sean turned to face Faye. She wasn't looking at him, either. She was glaring at the man in the red coat.

"No," he said. "Faye, stop it."

This time she looked at him. "I said, get out of my way!" Her voice was dangerous. Her narrowed golden eyes glowed ferociously. She took a step toward him, and then another.

He closed his eyes for just a moment – and he was sitting inside the cave, surrounded by solid granite. He opened his eyes.

Faye was standing directly in front of him, so close that he had to tilt his head back and look up to meet her eyes, glaring ferociously down at him.

He didn't look away – and his mind remained clear. No presence insinuated itself inside; no pressure clouded his thoughts or compelled him to do anything.

_Get out of my way – now! _He heard her mental command from inside the granite cave – and felt it rebound off the rock.

Faye actually took a step back. Her eyes were wide and astonished as she stared at him.

"Don't, Faye. They're … they're _neighbors_," he said.

"Sean's right," Laurel said from beside him. "They _are_ neighbors."

Diana was standing on Sean's other side, quietly watching the outsiders. Cassie was beside her, muttering something about not all of the outsiders being neighbors. Adam, Nick, Deborah, Doug, and Chris were standing near Cassie. They all looked ready to jump the first outsider to make a move or fire a shot.

"They aren't acting particularly neighborly," Suzan said.

Sean startled. He turned. Suzan had stepped up between him and Laurel.

The woman in the trench coat was speaking. "You're Witches. You're no neighbors of mine."

A dark murmur of agreement came from the crowd of outsiders.

"That's right. They're no neighbors of ours. They're Witches – and Witches must die." A man in a white and black camouflage coat raised his shotgun, aiming it at Faye.

"By stones," Diana said suddenly. "Not guns."

"_What_?" The man turned away from Faye to stare at Diana, aiming the shotgun at her.

"What are you talking about?"

"That's what your Bible says. A man or a woman who has a familiar spirit or is a wizard shall be put to death by stones," Diana said. "It's very specific."

"That's right," Sean said. "That's what it says. Mediums and psychics, too."

Faye chuckled. "Absolutely. Also anyone who consults the spirits of the dead or practices divination. All of those folks have got to be put to death by stones. Right away."

"Yes," Adam said. "You'll also have to execute people who fail to honor the Sabbath and keep it holy, and people who commit adultery. Also people who curse their mothers or their fathers."

"And remember, you're not supposed to cut your hair or trim your beard," Doug said to a short-haired man with a neatly trimmed beard. The man frowned at him.

"Or get tattoos," Chris added, looking at a big man wearing a motorcycle jacket and a Harley Davidson cap. The big man grinned.

"Or eat fruit until at least five years have passed since you planted the tree," Laurel said. "And you're not supposed to eat anything with blood in it."

Adam nodded. "If you're going to follow the archaic laws, you ought to do it right."

Most of the outsiders were staring at them, now. Staring at _him_. And the Circle was standing beside him – on both sides – and behind him. Too many people … He was surrounded …

He tensed, panic beginning to overwhelm him. He closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down. _The cave … you're safe … surrounded by Earth, by granite._ He felt his breathing slow down and steady. He opened his eyes. The mob of outsiders was still there. Most of the weapons were held at rest, aiming at the ground, but the man in the red coat was aiming his gun at Sean … no, at Faye; she was still standing behind him. The man in the white and black camouflage jacket and a few other outsiders had their guns raised, too.

"Even if we accepted the Bible as the ultimate authority over our lives – which we _don't_ – Biblical law is not the law of the United States," Diana was saying. "Neither U.S. nor Massachusetts law gives you the right to kill someone just because they have a different religion than you."

"Religion?" somebody scoffed.

"Yes," Adam said. "Religion. Wicca – Witchcraft – is a legally recognized religions in this country."

"Yeah, right," someone scoffed.

"It's true," Diana said. "But even if it wasn't, there is no law in this country that gives one person the right to kill another. Not without a trial and conviction of a heinous crime. There has been no conviction here, no trial. None of us has even been charged with any crime."

"Except a couple of traffic violations," Deborah said.

Suzan chuckled. So did several of the outsiders. Even Nick smiled.

"Sometimes the law is wrong," said a heavy-set man Sean had seen around school. "Sometimes a person has to take matters into his own hands."

Diana nodded. "That's true. But laws prohibiting murder are _never_ wrong." She turned to the man in the red coat. "It's hurting other people that's wrong. Even your Bible – whatever else it may say – says not to kill, not to murder other human beings. It says to treat others as you wish to be treated."

"She's right," a woman's voice called. Mrs. Jackson, the new principal, made her way through the group of outsiders to stand between the Circle and the man in the red coat. "Whatever these children may have done, you can hardly … _execute_ them," she said.

"They killed two principals!" a man wearing a baseball cap said. "And they _hanged_ a student!"

"There's no evidence of that," Mrs. Jackson said. "There isn't even any evidence that Mr. Brunswick is dead. It's possible that he simply left New Salem. These children were interrogated – the police questioned everyone who lives on Crowhaven Road. They didn't find enough evidence to indict anyone."

"We don't need evidence," the heavy-set man who'd spoken before said. "We know for sure that at least two of the victims were murdered. The Lovejoy boy didn't hang himself – and James Fogle didn't drop that two-ton piece of granite on himself. And we know that at least some of these children have … antisocial tendencies." He looked pointedly at Deborah and Nick, and Faye, and Chris and Doug, and Sean.

Sean flushed, but he refused to look away. He stared back, as calmly as he could. The heavy-set man looked away first.

"It's not their fault, Scott," one of the teachers from the middle school murmured quietly to the man. "Most people around here are afraid of them. James Fogle was. Nobody's tried to discipline them."

"_We_ are not the ones who need discipline," Faye said coldly. "None of _us_ is carrying a weapon or threatening anybody."

"Is there something in particular that we've done to offend you?" Cassie asked the group of outsiders. "Perhaps we can come to an agreement to allow us all to live in peace."

"You're a Witch! And a murderer!" The red-coated man raised his gun and fired. The shot rang out loudly. Sean flinched, and closed his eyes. A dull thud as the bullet hit stone was audible in the silence.

He opened his eyes, and stared. The bullet was lying on the sand in front of Cassie, a few feet away. A bright light flared up in front of Faye. It stopped abruptly and slid to the ground several feet in front of Sean, burning for a few seconds before vanishing. There was no granite anywhere to be seen – only in the shield in his mind's eye. He stared at Cassie, who was staring at the bullet.

"Whose shield?" Adam said abruptly, looking around the Circle.

Sean opened his mouth, looking at Cassie, but he couldn't make a sound.

"Sean?" Laurel asked.

He nodded mutely.

Cassie met his eyes. "Thank you," she said. "Will you share your shield with all of us? I'll link us together with the whole Circle and with the Master Tools."

He nodded again, and dropped his shield; almost instantly a presence entered his mind. He flinched involuntarily and instinctively flung his shield back up. The presence remained. Sean felt the combined power of Cassie's mind and the minds of the other Circle members, and the power of the Master Tools Cassie was wearing, join together. And the Circle was surrounded by granite, somehow grown to proportions large enough to shield everyone. The granite shield shimmered in the firelight. It was translucent, like thick, warped glass; Sean could see the outsiders staring at them through it.

No one was firing.

Mrs. Jackson was holding the red-coated man's gun, staring at it in disgust. She dropped it gingerly to the sand. "Get out of here," she said to him. "If those children hadn't been Witches, and able to defend themselves, you would have killed that girl. And _you_ would have been the murderer."

"No. Stay right there, sir," a vaguely familiar woman's voice said. The detective who'd interrogated him shortly after the disappearance of "Mr. Brunswick" was striding through the crowd toward him, holding a pair of handcuffs. "You are under arrest for attempted homicide." Sean turned away as she handcuffed the man and led him away.

The mob was slowly starting to break up. Several of the outsiders were quietly walking away. Others were watching the ones who'd been armed intently, making sure they kept their guns away, or at least pointed away from people.

Most of the remaining outsiders were staring at the granite outcrop that had appeared out of nowhere, and at the Circle members protected by it.

"I would like to talk with you, if I may," Mrs. Jackson called out from the other side of the shield. Mr. Mather, from the sporting goods store, and several students, and all three of the teachers from the middle school, and the woman who owned the bakery and the bearded man from the hardware store, and a few others Sean didn't recognize, were standing beside her.

Cassie, Diana, and Faye looked at each other. Faye nodded.

Cassie closed her eyes, and the granite shield disappeared.

The outsiders stepped closer.

"Sean, come sit down," Suzan whispered, taking his hand and tugging gently.

Only then did he notice that he was shaking. His legs were trembling like jelly. His heart was pounding.

He sat beside Suzan on the sand. He hadn't really just faced down a group of outsiders – had he? Surely he hadn't just faced down _Faye_?

"Thank you, Sean." It was Cassie.

Sean looked up. Cassie was looking at him seriously – respectfully.

Sean felt himself flush. He was still shaking, and his heart was still racing; he wanted nothing more than to run, to get away from everyone, away from their eyes. But he didn't run. "You're welcome," he muttered.

Laurel was grinning at him. "Way to go! You saved Cassie – _and _you won that battle for us!"

He nodded, and looked up. The outsiders were standing nearby, waiting.

"Please, have a seat," Diana said politely, gesturing to the sand beside the bonfire still burning on the beach.

"Thank you," Mrs. Jackson said. She and the other outsiders joined the Circle members beside the fire.

Sean stared into the flames, not really listening to the conversation.

He kept seeing the face of the red-coated outsider as he pulled the trigger. The man's expression had been eager – and alert. He had been completely aware of what he'd tried to do, and excited about it. That man had wanted to harm Cassie – to kill her. And he would have, if Sean's shield hadn't protected her.

Sean _had_ killed three people – but he hadn't meant to hurt anyone. He'd been weak. He hadn't been able to stop the dark energy and Black John from controlling him, and making him do things he never should have done – things that he never would have done, had Black John not forced him to.

Faye_ gave in to Black John, too_. Sean hadn't really thought about that before, but _he_ hadn't been the only one to work for Black John. Faye had worked for him, too; and she had always been a lot stronger than he. Sean didn't know what exactly she'd done – and he doubted that she'd killed anybody – but she had seemed to _want_ to work for Black John. She might have killed, too, had Black John asked her to.

He _was_ a victim, like Kori, Jeffrey, Mr. Fogle, and Mrs. Howard. They had lost their lives – and he had lost his soul. But maybe – someday – he would find it again.

He looked up. The Circle was gathered together with a group of outsiders, talking.

Laurel met his eyes, and smiled. "_Sean_ saved her," she said. "He shielded Cassie from that bullet, and he would have shielded the rest of us, too, if that man had fired again, or if someone else had. He even shielded the _outsider_, when one of us attacked him in self-defense."

Faye smiled. "Instinct," she said calmly.

Laurel was right. He _had_ saved lives. He had joined the Circle and helped defeat Black John before the hurricane could land at Cape Cod or Boston or New Salem; before it could kill people. And he had stood up to the outsiders, and to Faye. He'd even saved Cassie and the outsider man. Not that the outsider man deserved to be saved, but he deserved prison – not death. Nobody deserved to be burned alive.

Maybe Sean had started to atone for what he had done before. Maybe he _would_ find his soul again.

Or maybe he already had.


End file.
